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Mobb Deep » Click Click
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	(Havoc:) We get that paper baby boy, it's easy You want to be who? You can't be me Shorty gave me that ass on GP Rollin' in a G-500, or the Porsche, roof open And I know that you're hopin' that I fall real soon But I ain't goin' nowhere, hate to bust your balloon And there ain't that much room for all us Limited space, the game like a tour bus I won't break, I just take, take and take Rape and rape, the game til there's no more cake Snitch ass niggaz givin' up identities Ain't my fort© makin' pennies They soft like ice cream, sweeter than Ben & Jerry's Like ??, leavin' nowhere to be found but buried The gun won't fail me, the money won't leave me Stop schemin' on me baby, it ain't that easy Niggaz leave prints cause their palms so greasy Their mind read easy, I see right through 'em The AK'll do em, like nobody ?? 'em Stop, it's best that you keep it movin', you'll get shot (Hook: Havoc - 2X) We ain't lickin' niggaz, we ain't bustin' shots in the air No warnin' shots, the fuck out of here Oh man homey, hate to do you like this Oh man homey, when the tooley go click, click, click (Tony Yayo:) It's the young high-roller, the talk of New York David got my neck lookin' like a lightning bolt I'm in that two-door Range Stormer My truck plush, and the wheels are the size of rims on a school bus I need that Bill Gates money, that's fifty-one billion Six hundred ki's, that's fifty-one million Me and 50 in Hollywood, with Quincy Jones Since the Feds bought Nextel, I trashed my phone Listen homes, everything glisten homes Yeah my gun and my rims both sit on chrome You move your weight in the car, I move weight by the carload I dropped in Marcy in a Murcielago My connect is a Cuban named Flaco With my aim, you a human taco Meetin' shells, yo the feds tryin' to peep our sales My daughter grow up, she in Harvard and Yale, yeah (Hook Havoc - 2X) (Prodigy:) You see me rollin', Mack-10 showin' out the window When you catchin' me shootin' out the coup, then switch your lane You don't want me creepin' two miles an hour, with my seat low Cause I'll hop up out the roof with fully-autos and embed it in your brain It's like fee, fie, foe, fum, I smell the blood of a jealous ass punk One, two, three hundred shots Fittin' to ring off them things off, and cook the block Old people, the pets and the kids Whoever in the way, them strays gon' hit And we don't give a fuck about the police nigga This ain't Manhattan, this Queens nigga We're immune to the violence, it's nothin' to me Fuck 'em - they don't give a fuck about P If they could kill me, believe me, they would That's why I set it off, and I get 'em real good When them street, lights, come on nigga You best, have, your gun on nigga Cause tonight we ride (Growl) and you die (Growl) As soon as I walk up, or drive-by (Hook Havoc - 2X)
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