[Puffy]
When night falls - that's when it all begins
Be prepared; we can allow no loose ends
I highly recommend y'all bring your arms
This is no false alarm
They want to do us harm like I'm nervous
Live inside a glass house
They want to bring us down
Then drag us out
It's all about niggas that doubt our reputation
Start'n conflict and don't know what they facing
Want twist us all in their black magic
Suggest paper of wars and break havoc
Are you ready? Don't sleep on them
Ain't petty, you get that ass thrown like confetti
Meet me at the getaway spot in a jiffy
Leave all the does behind that act iffy
We got maneuvers that's hard to beat
Till the other side retreats
Under six feet beneath
C'mon
[Mark Curry]
I told you that is a saw I wore
I'm a kill
When the rebel yells song that don't stop till it's done
See, I got guns, and I'm sick
See how you said meet me here, and I came quick?
Them same cats on the most wanted list
We can hit them, then straight disappear in the mist
...Won't cease to exist
I shoot to kill, and I'll be damned if I miss
A warrior waiting for Armageddon
I get serious as hell when I'm threatened
Intent to get hostile; break into a rage of fury
Send them back their apostle's fossils and crazed right
A rude awakening, and, but now I'm alert
And that's right down my line of work
The whole Brotherhood new verse
Gutless cowards with no back
And watch how they all fall flat
Ah
[Chorus x 2]
Niggas gon' fall out
They got us up against the wall
Here I call out; let it all out
With or without you, I'm for war
Some shit worth dying for, ah-huh
[Black Rob]
Yo, you want hot soup?
I got shit like up on in Attica
Guns ridiculous like Battlestar Galactica
What's this, want to insult my family?
La familia actin' like one of us goin' to kill ya
I want y'all dues
Shit hit the fan
We going to be eatin' your food
Time up in the new, then torture
I rip a niggas toe nails off
What, I didn't hear the news?
Five slayin' the law
Man, how I don't want do these cats
I lay mousetraps for those mice-house niggas that house gats
They want to out me
I know killers from down south, B
Who know and understand there ain't a thing sweet about me
I earn my respect, and I was born to wreck
Spit techs by your rockets threw jets
Who's next to get hit by firepower that's so raw?
Go play; 4-4's ready for war
[Mase]
All out, what, what
Want to blow, what, what
Teamsters what, what
Mother fucker
From Monday to Sunday, it's all about the money
Nigga ain't got mine
I guarantee I'm gun play
Moms says makes you going to need that money one day
Bitch, I'm in the jet
Benz on the runway
Don't be fooled; still squeeze tools
Money like that; why the fuck I need school?
M-A dollar sign E rules
Hundred G jewels
Vacate places you don't even need shoes
Same cats say stay up, pray for my day up
No one where my bitch live
Plot where I lay up
If you got coke way up
Got doe then pay up
Niggas shoot at me; a nigga better spray up
'Cause God forbid you hit me in my Ribs and I live
Comin' back and getting you and your kids
[Chorus]
[G-Dep]
Dom, dom, dom
Thought I heard something
Last cat that I heard frontin'
Burned up herb huntin'
Word 'cause my heard something
Splurge something
Now I don't care who I hit
It's who I hit I knew I hit
Who would understand though?
We vandals and land roles
Program for our own channels
And flannel; this man knew any clan
We're here for the cats in the minivan
Got let this schemey plan
Pay me man, scan
Sex, cars, any money
Sex guard the money
With this gun; it be hard to run me
Get it right, or get it tonight
Better tonight
Set up your wife with the head of the night
Don't fold 'cause my goals embedded with ice
To my tents dimming the light
I'm bendin' this mic
Lot of niggas don't comprehend
Lots niggas look sloppy when
They don't see me, and I see them
[Chorus x 2]
Down The Line Joint Lyrics performed by Puff Daddy are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Down The Line Joint Lyrics performed by Puff Daddy is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD