Havoc - Hurt n***as lyrics

Verse 1: ( Prodigy ) I'll noose ya'll, and push ya'll off the edge I'm like Ray Benzino cause how I hang men I got a big caliber gun inside of my Timb So I can explode on any mothaf**a that grin Trust me, it's not like that, it's not what you thought You'll be like "P shot me and bounced in the Porsche" On some real live Mobb sh**, Columbo, the Cappo I pop n***as, leave the gun right there, I got gloves Stop n***as from frontin', leave 'em real f**ed up I drop n***as thats runnin', shoot 'em in they back dun Coward a** n***a poppin' all that sh** And when them things popped out you on some Michael Johnson sh** f** that, hammer that n***a to the earth Wanna cross me? you n***as gotta pay that toll first And I got change for all that million dollar sh** And these slugs 'll be the only reason n***as be hollarin' Chorus (Havoc, P, and Noyd) Turn this sh** up, pump this sh** up, DJ mothaf**as burn this sh** up We hurt n***as Twirl that sh** up, burn that sh** up, don't make me have the Nine spit Up, I gives a fid-uck, I hurt n***as Verse 2: (Havoc) I'm tired of tellin' n***as how the f** I feel You know the steel 'll put them n***as to sleep like Benadryl These trash a** rappers and they f*ggot a** friends Talkin' like the b**hes, walk around like they Men n***as like ya'll don't get no respect This is Hav', I die once, ya'll n***as die a Thousand d**hs Cowards, you tryin' too hard to be 'bout it You know them n***as that be fake be the ones to shout it (Holla!) Talkin' this and that, but check Turn around and get robbed in they own projects Might as well be rappin' on stage for them b**hes be baggin' you, cause you the one feminine The sound of these guns got 'em shook, it's a rap You could see the yellow stripe runnin' clear down they back And let a n***a find out where you live at And then blow that mothaf**in' piece of sh** off the map Verse 3 (Prodigy) Whattup son, dun, surprise n***a, thats how we pop up on 'em You off point you die in your sleep, thats the moral n***a, you know we get our contraban in Smokin' that dangerous, you know we got bangers You know I'm dead real, I don't know what you was thinkin' I'm all over the street, you better stay creepin' I shoot n***as fair ones, I'll box you dun You'll be six feet in that dirt, I'll stop your run Chorus