Featured In
Top Songs By Prodigy
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Prodigy
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Albert Johnson
Composer
Alan Maman
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Alchemist
Producer
Steve Sola for Plain Truth
Recording Engineer
Sheldon Guide
Engineer
Nino Cacacabala
Assistant Engineer
Tom Coyne
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Uh huh, oh y'all ****'s killers now
Oh word? Catch you comin' out your
Fuckin' crib, ****
Yeah, catch a bullet ****
[Verse 2]
Ayo, I break bread, ribs
Hundred dolla bills
Peel on Ducati's and other four wheels
Write a book full of medicine
And generate meals
Tour the album, only for more sales
We used to catch those on
The block with crills
Now it's paid shows
Promoters post up bills
Sign deals only if the math is real
If we can't match numbers
Then you can't have the head ****
In charge of shit
Live **** rhymes artist
Pardon, P Dub shines regardless
Remorseless, haunt ****
Like poltergeist, my advice
'For it get like that is think twice
'For you move on it
Put jewels on it, who want it?
Loose **** make the news
When we start formin'
Snatch stripes off a ****'s uniforms often
Don't embarrass yourself
You're way out your jurisdiction
Why **** bullshit on the grill?
I don't fuck around, dunny
This move's real
I keep it thoro ****
[Verse 3]
Yo, let me back up for a minute
Let me back up
Yo, yo, why **** bullshit
On the grill?
I don't fuck around, dunny
This move is real
I gave birth to you whole style
And feel, how do it feel?
To hold my dick in puclic
Cock blower, duplicate rap cloner
It's me and you do it live on stage for dolo
I smack **** like you
Smash **** by the tools
Grab **** by the throat
Show 'em proof
Rhymes cocky, crazy ill, mad rowdy
Did a buck off of my shit
And wrapped your Audi
[Verse 4]
Temperamental, I snap quick
Very touchy, ay yo my attitude
Is all fucked up and real shitty
I rap like no one out there
Can fuck with me, you feel different
**** see me
I throw a TV at you, bitches say
P you crazy
A pain in the ass now
But fuck you, pay me
I'm no shorty, **** I stop your glory
I'm a thorough street **** for real
You just applaud me, avoid P
Man, take your baby mom's advice
I'm nothing sweet, ill with the guns
You pay the price when you see me
In the streets, soldier
Salute me, you just a groupie
Oh, you gangster? Then shoot me
[Verse 5]
Who gives a fuck really?
I miss my **** twin, kill me
So I could join the rest of my force
Up in the heavens
You rap **** make me laugh
Y'all crazy-ass
And I don't give a fuck what you sold
That shit is trash
Bang this, 'cause I guarantee that
You bought it
Heavy airplay all day, with no chorus
I keep it thoro ****
Written by: Alan Maman, Albert Johnson