hine to dis OK [Chorus] [Mark] Du du du [Trina] Back dis ass up [Mark] Du du du [Trina] Back dis ass up [Mark] Du du du [Trina] Back dis ass up [Mark
I never understood life and how I got here I just live and try to learn till it's my time to disappear And see really where my homies at on the other
just to take his ass away. Now Mama always workin' tryin' to make ends meet. So now a young niggas bein' raised by the streets. And then the on other
wanted. So, I started pocket-checkin' And now my money stacks up to the ceiling. 'Cause I can spot a fucking mark in a minute, And if his wallet's fat
: 1. Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride, As we went a-walkin' down by the seaside, Mark now what followed and what did betide, For it bein' on
Of course we're about to stir up Some shit thick as Mrs Buttersworth's syrup It's the mr. picked on Christopher Reeves Just for no reason other than
from the fucking light poles Shout out to the Bronx, nigga! [Verse 1: Ghostface] Ay yo, this shit go way back like a Uni marker, kid Bombing the D train
bitches that If they could put a Ms. Pac-Man or somethin' in the back Maybe we could get some money back, maybe we could get some money back there) Son
to Saturday Night Live, write rhymes Glide on beats, and we high from the police The dogs bark funny, in fact, when I'm clean They can smell mark money
to Yeah, you that motherfucker that betrayed your homeboys and you ain't shit Yeah, you about to get your motherfucking ghetto pass revoked, motherfucker Punk-ass mark
that, not the one that's gonna fall on no hoe trap Ease back bitch, before you need all your teeth back.. .. I ain't no fuckin mark Made all my money
: Skitsofrantic, don't panic Leave me alone, get the fuck on Skitsofrantic to the bone, when I'm home I hear people walking in the other room Cooking
now were gone now, on your mark We live and then we die, and we never touch the sky So now, now were gone now, on your mark Five, seven, eight, two,
a gun was shot And there was a Murder Mark along with Tom and Phillip They hung in the park Talking 'bout stacking mills up along with Money Luke Him
the spirit so head for the water And dive into the wrath of my madness (Latifah does a rasta chorus) Some MC's have gold and African vein And useing each other
On the up and up that's that real crab shit Poppin mad shit on that mix tape shit But when it's time to face a heat, you on that other type shit I know
be serious Queen Bee, Swizz Beatz, they scared of us Y'all know it ain't no comparin us [Lil' Kim (Swizz)] I got moves in this game, the other chick
