Raekwon - Stick Up Music Lyrics
(feat. Busta Rhymes & Uncle Murda)[Intro: Busta Rhymes]It's Flipmode *****! Categorize my word as gospelYEAH![Verse 1: Busta Rhymes]Yo! I offer niggas the encouragementWhile I give you the nourishment I put niggas on punishmentY'all niggas is trash but I offer the streets the supplementsTakin over the block now I'm tryin to control the government(SAY WHAT!) Got these niggas pissin they mattressesThe God is back nigga get the deliverin my packages!Now I'm back from L.A. all accessIt's that nigga back from the Oscars after *****in some actress-esWhile I give you the seasonin and there recipesOver the music they sound like Sticker from in the seventiesWhile sippin 'nac that make niggas hiccup and spit for centuriesOf course the ratchet they click up and my enemiesThe way I flood the streets you know the flava goodI'm a stash some of the coke and cause a drought up in the neighborhoodI'm only in the streets to feed a niggaRegardless what you think the game will always need a nigga(Yeah! Might as well mortalize me into a statue nigga!)[Verse 2: Raekwon]Yeah, let's go love...I wear a MEAAAN dark pair of shadesJanglin bats back in the days, I wore braidsRunnin with solicitors, grizzlies, monkey business prisonersLivin Uptown with scales inside wall ridgesY'know we network our ass offSlabs of salt, dynamite sticks from bricks, fiends gas offBlowin sellin dope, runnin to the vault pass offPlay with my paper, write your little ass offStylin 'cause I know how to dressLearned it from Jamacians who stressed the building lights and gallons of cessWe play rock star hard, every big bangle we mangle (uh-huh)Mad dog with the uzi named King TangoFishin for riches, mission is to dig *****es (yep)Hide from the NARCs', Clarks on blue casesYou know we love you like cook food, matta factCook cocaine, never drainin the good mood[Bridge: Uncle Murda](Hold up! Hold up! Hold up!) Chill, chill niggaDamn! (What's goin on? Y'all tryna make a song WIT'OUT ME? !)I ain't get enough *****in wreck, man!(I'm on this, GOBBS, what's goin on?)[Verse 3: Uncle Murda]I get that fatty, I got that hammerI die for that bread man, that's word to my grandma (GRANDMA!)I kill for it too, that's word to my lil' man (Oh!)I risk my freedom for him, send me to prison manI gotta get it man (I do!), Look, by any means necessaryPop a nigga while I'm robbin him if it's necessary (BANG!)Yeah - gimme the loot, gimme the lootHe was like, "Aight Murda, don't shoot, don't shoot (Don't MOVE!)No head shots, please don't shoot me in my headIt ain't that serious, I ain't tryna die for that bread (What? !)I don't want no beef, man take my burnaI'm a put the word out, no more hatin on Murda (They hatin)You get weed on my block, all of dem manI did it for 26, you can charge me 40 a grand (Aight, I got it!)I know what beef is and I don't want it, sonI'm serious, I don't care if I sound corny son" (You DO doe!)(Damn! My Philly cap gone!)