cuban link - men of business lyrics
[lil’ fame] aahhhh!…
[billy danze] hahahaha….
[lord tariq] yeah n-gga…
[noreaga] yeah n-gga whatha f-ck?…thugged out and we ain’t got love for y’all
[lil’ fame] whatha f-ck..whatha f-ck..whatha f-ck…
[noreaga] thugged out and i ain’t got love for y’all…
[billy danze] n-ggah!…n-ggah!…
[cuban link] cubaaaaa!
[noreaga]
uh..yo..yo..thugged out.. we ain’t got love for y’all..
thugged out and i ain’t got no love for y’all.. (x4)..
now these funny n-ggas is actors, they in movies
straight characters, lookin’ like “winnie the poohie”
who the only rap cat that really sell crack?, got gunz
sh-t that push ya forehead back, yeah!
you f-ck my b-tch and i’ll f-ck yours
but yours gave me head, she ain’t see my bed
thats why, i’ll never do a song with you
it’s like y’all n-ggas got a thong on you, whats wrong with you?
and we ain’t even gotta have beef
we can drink malt liquour and smoke a lil’ leaf
n.o.r..i’m sl!ck like nunile grease
cuba..german luger with the silencer piece
queens n-gga, copped the whole crib, no lease
ya see ‘pone in the benz with the brand new rims
a.m.g kit, half of y’all n-ggas is off sick
i suggest don’t come to the game, just forfeit…
[lord tariq]
n-ggas know betta than this, a verteran at pedellin’ bricks
caked up but still hungry, can’t settle for sh-t
half past eleven in the ghetto is sick
i saw a n-gga from the bricks, sell a rev’ in a nic’
and where i’m from, it’s infested with magicians and tricks
and you ain’t sh-t unless a n-gga whippin’ a six
gettin’ ’em sick with many b-tches l!ckin’ the d-ck
runnin’ with n-ggas and spiks who really living this sh-t
and these young n-ggas thinkin’ they invented this sh-t
because they got a few dollars and his pendant is sl!ck
sh-t i hit the club, ten g’s spend it and split
n-gga had five thou’, can’t rent him a chick
i ain’t rich but the way we livin is it, venomous lips
gettin’ me chips and gettin’ me drips, enter this sh-t
infinite hits, hangin’ with bloods and spittin’ with crips
dump a clip in the cl!ck and ended this sh-t…
[cuban link]
yeah.. y’all motherf-ckers gotta stop frontin’
before i count in, block back and pop sumthin’
not for nuthin’, y’all rock but not enough to lock with us son,i’m hot
bustin’ like a shotgun pump, my squad don’t front
y’all pop sh-t, we pop the trunk
so what ya want punk? i stomp, gone from the bronx to hong kong
your lone gone now, coz y’all got souped up like wantang
i drop bombs and murder beats, burn ’em to the third degree
y’all hearda me, the first to preform open mic surgery
verbally ill, words built to purpously k!ll
why y’all herbs still kickin’ nursery rhymes, i’m worth a mil’
so what the deal boy? i write the real and the say what i feel
so grab ya steel tec’, its evil when i play fight, i play for real
i’m from the ‘vills where they torch coffins
in front of ya grlls like george forman
ain’t no talkin’ to the law enforcements
we all be flossin’ through new york, walkin’ in slow motion
four hors-m-n style, talk loud and getcha jaw broken…
[kool g. rap]
yo we walk dead in these streets, stalk with lead in the heat
guerilla n-ggas willin’ to k!ll for the bread and the meat
n-ggas starvin’ with their ribs showin’, ready to eat
when sh-t get hot, f-ck the cops, it be feds on the beat
not the one to give a speech baby, we let metal speak
way ahead of the beef, wet him from his head to his feet
in a pool of red, bloodshed, spreadin’ from a leak
another fool dead, mug red, stretched up on the beach
four hundred thousand, get recruited, general saluted
infinite guns, spit for the ones, sh-t go down and i’ma flip for my duns
cop a load of bricks in the tonnes, and push a big whip in the slums
the quicker they come, the swifter they plunge
leave ’em to rot on a dark block, hollow tip fifth in they lung
or catch an ear to ear rip and get hung
from just a single slip of the tongue
bust’em, leave ’em twisted and done…
[billy danze]
now let me take you motherf-ckers on a wild ride
which is worldwide, on the wild side,homicide side
where a lot of serial k!llers have died
i’m one of the few with a will to survive, you
know this metal fist n-gga never choke up
spit venom in ’em and open ’em up
the game non stop.. [lil’ fame]n-ggaaa!…
til’ everybody shot.. [lil’ fame]n-ggaaa!..
til’ everybody drop.. [lil’ fame]n-ggaaa!..
i will catch your -ss five years later
rite there at ya crib gettin’ on the elavator
creep up on you like i’m kin to darth vader, then unload the fader
keepin’ extra clips for that one couragous neighbour
that got visions of being a f-ckin’ “power ranger”, [lil’ fame]blaaoow!..
motherf-cker see ya later…
[m.o.p.] bukkabukkabukkabukka… clack!…like whoa!…
[lil’ fame]
i bring the beef hard for you,have y’all sh-ttin’ in y’all drawers
i’ma show you motherf-ckers the meanin’ of star wars
pop sumthin’ straight through ya, grrraam bam bootah!
i don’t give a motherf-ck who ya are, what the f-ck y’all think?
this is cuban link, m.o.p, g rap, lord tariq, n.o.r.e
end of story, get the f-ck off me
i have ya n-ggas open like you drank twenty gallons of starbucks coffee
this is, from b.k to b.x, queens, and i’m uptown
body shot, shotty shot, god he shot sixteen slugs!
i could shut one hammer, blow your -ss out like sixteen candles, too hard to handle
check this, play large and get one large inside of your large intestine
now ask yourself, what the f-ck is this?
m.o.p., m.o.b, men of business, hahaaaaaa!….
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