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grunge is dead & m.o.p. - how about some hardcore lyrics

for the fellas on the corner posted up twenty deep
with your fifth on your hip, ready to flip
whenever you empty your clip, dip, trip your sidekick
you got sk!ll, your best bet is to chill
and do yourself a favor, don’t come nowhere near the hill
with that bullsh+t, word, money grip, it’ll cost ya
make you reminisce of frank nitty “the enforcer”
i move with m.o.p.’s last generation (yeah)
straight up and down, act like you want a confrontation
i packs my gat, and i got to stay strapped
i bust mines, don’t try to sneak up on me from behind
don’t sleep, i get deep when i creep
i see right now, i got to show you it ain’t nothin sweet
go get your motherf+ckin’ hammer
and act like you want drama
i send a message to your mama
“h+llo, do you know your one son left?”
i am licensed to k!ll and he had been marked for death
he’s up the hill in the back of the building with two in the dome
i left him stiffer than a tombstone
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it rugged in the ghetto)

i used to pack sling shots, but now i’m packin’ heavy metal
a rugged underground freestyler
it’s lil’ fame, m+th+f+cker, slap, lil’ mallet
when i let off, it’s a burning desire
n+ggas increase the peace ’cause when i release it be rapid fire
for the cause, i drop n+ggas like drawers
n+ggas’ll hit the floors from the motherf+ckin .44’s
i’m thinkin’ titles when it’s showtime
f+ck around, i have n+ggas call the injury help line
i bust words in my words that’ll serve
even on my first nerve, i put herbs to curbs
i ain’t about givin’ n+ggas a chance
and i still raise sh+t that make my brother wanna get up and dance
front, i make it a thrill to k!ll
bringin’ the ruckus, it’s the neighborhood hoods for the hill that’s real
me and mics hustle like n+ggas and dyk+s
so who wanna skate, cause i’m puttin n+ggas on ice
whatever i drop must be rough, rugged and hard more (yeah)

how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
yo, here i am (so what up?) get it on, c+cksucker
that n+gga bill seem to be a ill black brother
i gets dough from the way i flow
and before i go
you motherf+ckers gonna know
that i ain’t nothin to f+ck with, duck quick
i squeeze when i’m stressed
them teflons’ll tear through your vest
i love a bloodbath (n+ggas know the half)
you can feel the wrath (saratoga/st. marks ave.)
b+i+l+l+y d+a+n+z+e+n+i+e
me, billy danzenie
(knock, knock) who’s there? (lil’ fame)
lil’ fame who? (lil’ fame, your n+gga)
boom, ease up off the trigger
it’s aight, me and shorty go to gunfights
together we bring the ruckus, right?
we trump tight, aight?
i earned mine, so i’m entitled to a title
(7 f+ckin 30) that means i’m homicidal

how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
how about some hardcore? (yeah, we like it raw)
yo, i scream on n+ggas like a rollercoaster
to them wack motherf+ckers, go hang it up like a poster
n+ggas get excited, but don’t excite me
don’t invite me, i’m splittin’ n+ggas’ heads where the white be
try to trash this, this little b+st+rd’ll blast it
only puttin’ n+ggas in comas and caskets
i ain’t a phoney, i put the “mack” in +aroni
i leave you lonely (yeah, yeah, get on his ass, homie)
up in your +n+s, i pack steel that’s stainless
we came to claim this, and lil’ fame’ll make you famous
i mack hoes, rock shows and stack dough
’cause i’m in effect, knockin’ motherf+ckers like five+o
i’m catchin other n+ggas peepin’, sh+t, i ain’t sleepin’
i roll deep like a motherf+ckin puerto+rican
so when i write my competition looks sadly
no punk+ass n+ggas, i make it happen like mariah carey
i got sh+t for n+ggas that roll bold
lil’ fame is like a orthopedic shoe, i got mad soul
i’ma k!ll ’em before i duck ’em
because yo, mother made ’em, mother had ’em and motherf+ck ’em

knowmsayin?
lil’ fame up in this motherf+cker
givin’ shoutouts to my man dr period
big kid, lazy laz
my man broke ass moe
the whole saratoga ave., you know what i’m sayin’?
representin’ for brooklyn
most of all, my cousin prince leroy, big mal, rest in peace

danzenie up in this motherf+cker
i’d like to say what’s up to the whole mop
brooklyn, period
them n+ggas that just don’t give a f+ck
bet yo’ ass, n+gga
hey yo, this motherf+ckin’ babyface nelson
aka o.g. bu+bang
yo, i wanna say what’s up to the whole motherf+ckin’ mop, boy

- grunge is dead m o p lyrics

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