Prodigy (Mobb Deep) - The Type lyrics

[Curren$y] Let the little homie kick it in the auto-shop with us Long as he can make store runs and keep his mouth shut Same way I came up, all my triple O's was hood famous Nice guy surrounded by wolves wild/dangerous That's where I gained this cool! Walk this talk, you trying to duplicate and make twos All you do is make fools of yourselves Underground j**els, Chester Copperpot, wallet in the wishing well Evidence n***as done fell trying to get close to the jet-code But it will never be deciphered by a rookie pilot That's why I sit opposite the driver, '63 Impala Bad b**h, chain steering wheel guidance I'm out the window sky watching Plotting as usual, that's what I'm doing when I quiet Can't remember shorty name, but she had that loud pack That other night in Tallaha**ee, and I thank her for that Fine freaky sending snaps with her legs behind her back In the wee hours of the morning, picture mailing that she horny But love, I'm tryna f** with this money [Hook - Curren$y] We bust raps like D boys bust Gats We the type of people that don't bury the ax Hold up! We bust raps like D boys bust Gats We're the type of people Cutla**, Monte Carlos, Regals [Prodigy] We bust raps like we bust these gats We're the type of people that don't bury the ax Hold up! We bust raps like we bust these gats We're the type of people Chevies and GMC's [Verse 2 - Prodigy] f** it, it's the life of a shooting star, gotta move smart Can't get caught slipping, they all wanna see me fall Take my punches like a trooper, take my losses like a man It come with the territory, take the good with the bad Throw the dice, watch 'em tumble, where they land, so be it Everything is not strategic, sometimes we risk our life Sometimes we risk our love, our money, and our freedom That bullsh** we feed it, to see if you gonna eat it In New York, we manipulate naive dummies We beat you on the head, it's just game we be running sometime But most of the time, we don't play They can't figure us out, we like it that way The road to the riches so long our feet catch blisters All these crabs in the bucket, pull you down trying to get up Every man for theyself, every woman want bags and shoes We the type of people that'll find you [Hook]