Featured In
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Havoc
Vocals
Prodigy
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Albert Johnson
Songwriter
Kejuan Muchita
Songwriter
Tyrone Thomas
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Mobb Deep
Producer
Tony Smalios
Mixing Engineer
Leon Zervos
Mastering Engineer
Mario Rodriguez
Recording Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Yo, the saga begins, begin war
I draw first blood, be the first to set it off
My cause, tap all jaws, lay down laws
We takin' what's yours, we do jerks, rush the doors
Here come the D's, tryna make breeze and guns toss
At full force, some team'll go at your main source
My 9 Taurus, hit bosses and take hostage
Your whole setup, from the ground up, we lock shit
Blood flood ya eye, fuck up ya optics
Switch to killa instinct, fo' **** pop shit
Yo **** know he was the topic, nine pound, we rocked it
'96 strike back with more hot shit
Illuminate, my team'll glow like, radiation
With to time for patience, or complication
Let's get it done right, my clique airtight
Trapped in a never-ending gun fight, some **** lose stripes and lose life
Jail **** sendin' kites to the street
Over some beef that wasn't fully coked, finish 'em off
Well-done meat, that said, .22 slug to ya head
Travel all the way down to ya leg
[Verse 2]
Ayo, it's Hell on Earth
Who's necks are gonna be first?
The projects is frontline
And the enemy is one-time
I ain't gotta tell you
It's right in front of ya eyes
Ayo, it's Hell on Earth
Who's necks are gonna be first?
The projects is frontline
And the enemy is one-time
I ain't gotta tell you
Yo, it's right in front of ya eyes
[Verse 3]
We rep the QBC, ****, rep yours, it's all love
Milli stacked down, heavenly guarded by hollow-tip slugs
Then crack down on wanna be thugs, adapt to gat sound
Then bow down, slow the fuck up, see how my foul now
Articulate, hittin' body parts, then start shiftin' shit
Never hesitant, it's the rap game unlimited
Summon rasta, we can do this, forever infinite
Then reminisce, twenty years later, how we was gettin' it
Ether with me, go against the grain, you better hit me
Leggin' me or robbin' me, **** better body me
'Cause it's a small world and **** talkin' like bitches
Bitches singin' like snitches, pointin' you out in pictures
'Cause she rep the QBC faithfully, playa hatin' me
All that bullshit is just makin' me
More the better, then concentrate on gettin' cheddar
If shorty set you up, you better dead her, I told you
Shape and mold you, son you, then I hold you
Like a pimp, mind control you, double-edge blow you
It'll be ya, like I'm supposed to, the clique is coastal
International, you local, Bacardi mix, physically fix
Hit you wit shit that'll leave a loose **** stiff
Probably thick, son, I solved 'em
Pulled him in my world, then evolved 'em in chaos
Walk the beat like around the way cops, the average pitstop
QB City, Godfather Part III, Gotti, Gambino, and Ty Nitty
Scarface, rest in peace
[Verse 4]
Who's necks are gonna be first?
The projects is frontline
And the enemy is one-time
I ain't gotta tell you
Ayo, it's right in front of ya eyes
Hell on Earth
Who's necks are gonna be first?
The projects is frontline
And the enemy is one-time
I ain't gotta tell you
Ayo, it's right in front of ya eyes
[Verse 5]
Yo, the heavy metal king, hold big shit with spare clips
You see eclipse when the Mac spit, ya top got split
Layin' dead with open eyes, close his eyelids
Turn off his lights, switch to darkness
'Cause Deep in the abyss of street life
Blood on my kicks shit on my knife
You's a wold child, kid cold, turnin' men into mice
I was born to take power, leave my mark on this planet
The Phantom of Crime Rap, **** is left stranded
Shut down ya operation, closed for business
Leave a foul taste in your mouth like Guinness
P.O.W. **** is found, M.I.A.
We move like the special forces, Green Beret
Heavily around my throat, I don't play
And shit brand new, back in '89, the same way
The God P, walk with a limp see, but simply
To simplify shit, no man can go against me
Test me, you must be bent, G, don't tempt me
I had this full clip for so long, it needs to empty
The reason why I full for so long, 'cause I don't waste shit
You properly hit, blood in your mouth, so you could taste it
Quiet as kept, I lay back and watch the world spin
I hear thugs, claimin' that they gonna rob the Mobb
When they see us, I tell you what, Black
Here's the issue, it's a package deal, you rob me
You take these missiles along with that
I ain't ya average cat
Fuck rap, I'm tryna make cream and that's that
Whatever it takes, however it gots to go down
Four mics on stage, a mothafuckin' four pound
Speakers leakin' out sound and **** leakin' on the ground
I could truly care less, the God gon' get his
Regardless, blow for blow, let's find out who way hardest
This rap artist used to be a stickup artist
Sometimes, I test myself, see if I still got it
A live **** stay on point, never disregard shit
Or forget the essence, from which I emerged
P is sick, so save that bullshit for the birds
Live up to my words, if I got beef, **** comin' in herds
We flush through, ya clique get purged
Written by: Albert Johnson, August Moon, Kejuan Muchita, Thomas Tyrone