U Don't Know (Remix)

(album: The Blueprint 2: The Gift & The Curse - 2002)

I'm not trying to be no big thing, no, no
You gotta let this one breathe, Just'
Just let it breathe for a second
I'm not trying to give you no advice
Yup! Hovi's home!
The newest addition to the Roc: M.O.P
I don't claim to be no philosopher
"The Blueprint 2" is on its way
I know y'all hear my footsteps out there! I'm coming!
But I sure know, this is life, baby, baby
Let's go get 'em, just!

Time to dump (Fiyah!), dump (Fiyah!)
Dump (Fiyah!), dump (Fiyah!)
Dump (Fiyah!)
You don't know
It's the M.O.P.! (Yes!)
What you're doing, doing, doing, doing

And the ZIP code is 1 (1), 2 (3), 3
And motherfucker, we coming (Owwww!)
100 miles and gunning, I'm still running with cats that rob
From the era of eggshell 80s and hatchback Saabs (Same game!)
Operation for this industry lockdown
We still tote hammers that go Blakow! Run up if you wanna
Believe me dog, these hammers with they owners
Fuck your G up, have you in blue Pampers, in a coma
And your family now moan—look, seventy pounds gone
A little fuck, shriveled up, with a hospital gown on
(We holding it down, homes!) Keep pushing, we fell bastards
To get over, we grind with slippery shell tactics
Chippety-frail bastards, your tracks need tune-ups
Lil' niglet, what the fuck for you recording for? Nick Jr.?
(The game ain't changed!) It just got harder
Plus we sponsored by Laze, Dame Dash, and Mr. S-Dot Carter
Brownsville (Yep!), we stomp through this bitch all day (Oh)
Rock with my cock out, face the crowd, and piss off stage (Ugh, ugh, ugh)

I'm from the G side of things (Oh), where we ride and bang
With a heat that'll flame, that's how we got the name:
(Warriors!) Embedded in your brains
And someone should be telling 'em, the veterans have came
And we're better in the game, you better make it rain
(Twenty-seven a gram) My man, it's better than cocaine
Now, everything will change, and this Family will rule the world
And you haters can eat a dick up 'til you hiccup and earl!
A decade on the grind (Ugh), nigga, I paid mine
So it's my time to shine and for you to ride the pine
I won't sit back and rap like these dumb-ass kids
I been around, I put it down, I ain't these young-ass kids (M.O.P.!)
The OGs repped and survived around this motherfucker
(First family!) We kept it live around this motherfucker (Oh!)
When it's crunch time, we do it our wizzay
Fo' shizzle, my nigga, learned to grip pistols in BK

Woooooo!
Turn my music high, high, high, high-er

More fire, more Rocawear attire
More money, more murder, now that M.O.P.'s hired
More further for the Roc empire, y'all won't serve us
Y'all nervous, know them guns on full service, ready to fire
One body, two body, three body, four
Young sitting on paper, I'm above the law
Young shitting on haters, I ain't fucking with y'all
For my Brownsville neighbor—"How About Some Hardcore?"
And it just get worser every time I sign my signature in cursive
Just add another million to these verses
One million, two million, three million, four
And the money's really worthless, I'm pissing you off on purpose
My nephews situated, and my mama is straight
So I'm ready for whatever drama should come my way
And you niggas rapping to me, so your drama is fake
You dudes is noodles, I got more ziti to bake
You dudes is cake, I keep two biscuits on the waist
Razor blades under the tongue, I will eat your face
Appetite for destruction, I am starving today
Got a money-hungry lawyer that'll eat the case
And that's just food for thought, don't let it go to waste
Nigga, bite the bullet until you stuffing your face, ha!
I done forgot more than you ever learned
What you don't know'll make your home a permanent urn, nigga!

Do you believe it?
Oh, no