Niggas Git Dealt Wit

[ Young Prod ]<br>Yeah<br>Puttin it down like this, bitch<br>S.C.C. back at yo ass, nigga<br>Fuck everybody<br>That`s real<br><br>[ VERSE 1: Young Prod ]<br>Rides, from my six-fo` to my Lex-o<br>Bumpin, what would you do if you knew, loc<br>How to put a lick down? Busta, you`se a amateur<br>You get scared when I glare, imagine if if I stare at ya<br>Then you would have to test yo Pro-Keds<br>Cause I done drew down and bust a cap at your forehead<br>So go `head and jet, but let your big homie know<br>If he got static the automatics is ready-go<br>And what I bang I claim real to the gee<br>The Cartel`s cavi, so can we calculate the C<br>As we be dumpin, locin as we slide on the d`s<br>And we slip the clips to the B.G.<br>Young P puts it down and ain`t nothing changin<br>I`m aimin heat at your dome cause it`s gangsta<br>Bustas better raise up off the blocks when we ride<br>Cause glocks leave niggas shell-shocked and they die<br><br>[ CHORUS ]<br>O.G.`s get smoked<br>B.B.`s get loced<br>with straps<br>so perhaps<br>niggas get dealt with<br>If caps get peeled and niggas get served<br>with straps<br>so perhaps<br>niggas get dealt with<br><br>[ VERSE 2: Havikk the Rhime Son ]<br>I`m up early in the mornin, creasin my Karl Kani`s, I`m saggin<br>I reach for my heat, yeah, that .44 magnum<br>It`s time to regulate your block, you get twisted<br>I`m easin through your ass like a dick, now it`s on, bitch<br>Welcome to the ill shit where niggas collapse in anger<br>Provokes the Rhime Son to release one out of the chamber<br>Crossin out our shit in the studio, foolio, you panic<br>And get your ass sunk like the Titanic<br>( ? ) up the cavi, proceedin to cause the ruckus<br>Meditate with the evil and the devil couldn`t touch us<br>It`s Prode`je and Rhime Son, Rhime Son and Prode`je<br>Extendin like a clip, hittin dips, no sense in tryin me<br>Ain`t no love, focus on the realest<br>No future in your frontin cause you muthafuckas feel this<br>It`s S.C.C. and Mouthpiece, so behold another coma<br>I`m in your fuckin lung like pneumonia<br><br>[ CHORUS ]<br><br>[ VERSE 3: Prode`je ]<br>Fuckin with the realer body-bag-filler-type of niggas<br>Killers that have you niggas chockin on your livers<br>S.C. could never play the back so the wack I confronted<br>Cocked the 12-guage and head-hunted<br>Had to be a flea cause you fuckin with that gee<br>Hav`s got the S, Prod`s got the C.C.<br>Gettin wreck, fools, you get dealth with<br>Like them niggas Mobb Deep said: you be `shook` like a earthquake<br>Studio gees I refuse to see<br>When 87 times niggas was accused to g<br>Of bein foulish, but I`ma leave you swoll` like a callous<br>Cancelled like Dallas, knock yo ass off balance<br>I put my foot up in that ass, bro, you didn`t know<br>That I can bust your shit like a pimple<br>And when it`s over you be dead, gee<br>I got your number<br>And sucker-ass niggas goin under<br><br>[ CHORUS ]<br><br>[ Prode`je ]<br>That`s right, muthafucka<br>Nineteen-muthafuckin-ninety-six<br>That S with them 2 C`s is gettin wreck on that ass<br>Finna dig a foot off in yo muthafuckin ass, nigga<br>Punk muthafuckas thought we couldn`t come back with that real shit<br>with that shoot-to-kill shit<br>Havikk the muthafuckin Rhime Son, Mouthpiece and Prode`je<br>finna break all you muthafuckas down<br>That`s right<br>Finna break all you muthafuckas down<br>Cause you punk-ass niggas get dealt with