Prodigy and Havoc, together known as Mobb Deep, are in my opinion the best two man group in hip hop 's history. The duo have so many epic songs and albums to name.
"Dead Man's Shoes" is just one example of that. The Bounty Killer-assisted banger is off of their 2011 "Black Cocaine" EP.
Philadelphia emcee Young Chris is one of the best lyricists in the game and has been for years, dating back to his time on Roc-A-Fella Records as a member of State Property and Young Gunz.
"I Love the Way" is the lead-in to Chris' forthcoming mixtape.
"Live At the Spot" is a 2007 collaboration betweem Mobb frequent collaborator Un Pacino and the late, great Prodigy. Off of Un Pacino's "The Last Don" album.
G-Unit 50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo - That's What's Up (Classic Audio) (Guess Who's Back LP)
50 Cent, Tony Yayo and Lloyd Banks, the three original members of G-Unit. They're run which includes classic albums and mixtapes will never be duplicated.
"That's What's Up" is pure audio heroin off of 50 Cent's 2002 "Guess Who's Back" project.
Lyrics:
(Chorus- Banks) G-Unit, G-Unittttttt,G-Unit, G-Unittttttt,G-Unit,G-Unit (repeayou no my gun -bozarcool come back naggae,respect a gun city fly my yellow dream sleep for cheak to me
(50 Cent-between Banks) G-Unit nigga that's what's up (repeat 6x)
(50 Cent) I blast 50 Cent nigga that's what's up
(Lloyd Banks) Right now my life movin to fast to stop and pray See every now and then I smile just not today In my hood they let the choppers spray Somebody probably got shot today I named em pop when niggas surfboard You ain't stoppin me dawg Only time you left ya hood is on Monopoly boards You grimey as birds shittin on the top of ya fords You will, die by the gun if you ain't droppin ya sword I got tattoos as well as lead marks To me fucking is kinda like racin and I always get a head start My opinion of a sweet dream is a dead NARC Just yesterday guns is blastin with red darts Beef, you a target Cause when we come at yo ass, Aladdin won't be the only one the carpet Man you wanna play wit a ringer? I ain't a peoples person I'll give my next door neighbor the finger (fuck you) Even though I got the shit in the stores I'm like a nigga that borrow clothes Bitch, I'm tryin to get in ya draws Man I'll dump a whole clip in ya mans braids Pussys love Nelly, he made it look cool to wear bandaids I'm blowin on damn haze All of a sudden I'm gassed, cause I'm on the radio and I can't wave If you ain't up on thangs Lloyd Banks is the name, G-Units the game Now I know to keep low when the heat blow I'll have niggas post up on ya block like I'm shootin the free throw Still get the green from P-dro, better known as Pedro I'm ghetto like a patty ya egg-roll Yea they feinin to stick me, they don't know the nina's is wit me Snuck in wit Christina and Brittney You only spend time at the mall On New Years eve a body drops around the same time as the ball (yea)
(50 Cent-between Banks) G-Unit nigga that's what's up (repeat 6x) That's what's up
(50 Cent) Keep thinkin I'm candy Ain't nuttin sweet about me Nigaas talkin in the pens and in the street about me Some jake, tryin to watch every move I make Cause my diesel will make fiends do the up-town shake I'm a pro, far from a amateur, holdin more keys than your fuckin janitor They say "God bless the child that could hold his own" You pay cops to hold you down, I just hold the chrome Every breath I take, every step I take, every move I make I got a ruger on my hip You ain't gotta like or love me but you gone respect me You need a fifth and 2 clips to try and check me 12 in the afternoon we can start the clappin Look homie I'm down for that day-time action Keep thinkin it's a game time in front of ya home Get the drop on that ass and shot shadder ya bones (yea)
(Tony Yayo) Listen boy, Tony be the real McCoy When hoes see the new toy, they jump for joy And even though the kid rappin I still got fiens in the hood puffin on that Magic Dragon My guns under my pillow, I sleep wit my shoes on Every single night me and my mack get our groove on Don't get moved on Cause I shoot through your bicepts your tricepts Then breeze through ya projects When the coke come back It's the China White And the d don't sweat us in a bag a rice Let's ride O T And burn the tape I got this bad mommy, her mouth's a sperm bank Since Yayo be a fearless man I donate my heart to them niggas that ran And, those niggas in the hood don't wanna see me famous They rather see my moms make funeral arangements I got enough rhymes, to fill 6 notebooks I been spittin that shit ever since coke crushed You can hear me on your T.V. and radio at the same time I never ever say the same rhyme, it's Tony 2 times Beware of my wraith, I'm gone school you niggas Prepare for class Yo I peep where your puns at, peep where you pumped that Money you tryin to stack I spent it on blunt wraps
(Banks) Word to my mother nigga 50 fuckin Cent nigga G-Unit nigga We about to gorrilla this industry man Yall niggas better know Yall niggas better fear us nigga Word to my mother nigga Fuck yall niggas wanna do 1 2 4 nigga G-Unit 50 Cent Tony Yayo Lloyd Banks nigga Bllllatttt
The Punchline King aka Blue Hefner drops off "Fell in Love," the 2nd single off his forthcoming album, "The Course of the Inevitable 2." Dropping Friday July 15, 2022.
Philadelphia spitters OT the Real and Freeway, backed by stellar production from Statik Selektah, come through with an official music video for "Hardcore."
01 Loyalty (w Gillie, Wallo, And Shaq) 02 Make It Count 03 Revelations 04 Hardcore (Feat. FREEWAY) 05 Turned on Me 06 The Bottom (Feat. Merkules) 07 Treachery (w G-Weeder) 08 Windows 09 Came Up Fast 10 History
"I Get Money" is a banger freestyle over 50 Cent's classic instrumental from 2/3 of The Lox ... Styles P and Jadakiss off of Styles' 2007 mixtape, "The Phantom Menace."
What up? Don't listen to the hook, listen to the crook I got the hoodie and the mask on coming for the jooks If I ain't got shit, but a pocket full of lint Got a fully loaded 45, hooptie with the tints Nah, I get money, money I got If not, I have some when I get off your block Like jail you could piss off or get off the pot We rob your whole crew, you won't even get off a shot Ain't a Blood but I get red, dickhead I throw the gun to your bitch head like, "Open the safe" If she don't, you won't believe how I open her face Cut her up, throw her body parts all over the place A little man wanna fuck her them cum in her asshole I'm thinkin', "Why I even give a gun to this rascal?" Now you don't want no type of hassle You the king 'til the Ghost run-up in your castle Know I'm gonna load it up Point 'em out, I'll hold 'em up Like a newborn baby, I fuck around and throw 'em up Nine mil shiny, little man behind me Fuck about rap, nigga, I'm still mad grimy Like cash but I ain't multi Got a new blade, neck need a new bowtie The lil' mama like, "Daddy, why you get so high?" We stay grounded and rob niggas to get so fly Feel me 'Bout to rob these niggas of rap What up to my niggas who cap, I got my mind on crack Or my mind on gats Run up on the kid, I'ma cock it back I'll put your little spine on lap Now the Ghost probably smokin' the roach blunt Team of little grimy niggas to listen and do what the coach want Now I get money, money I got I let the shotgun go on your block What up?
[Verse 2: Jadakiss]
Only talk what I live, y'all Real shit, old fashioned bars these niggas ain't able to give y'all Take it back like Velours and Diadors We amor, the 4 5th and the 44 I ain't gotta tell you I get it, 'cause you know I got it Risk my freedom to get what I got in the closet Far as what I got in the bank came from a few rhymes that I had in the tank If I ain't have the burner on me then I had me a shank In the cut, with a Dutch 'bout to have me a drank That's two hundred on the dash, the engine is funny I'm swimmin' in money, nigga Still spendin' Benjaman money I could drop with a royal flush on 'em My moon men in Grammys got dust on 'em Please, look They illin', trust me J chillin' But still got crack in the Section 8 villa Put your money on 'em, bet I blow 'em away And I don't even wash clothes, I just throw 'em away I just had 50 p's, let 'em go in a day These other niggas just talkin', I could show them the way I'm from the Reagan era, way before Bush came And the juice came in the same package the Kush came Trained to snuff a nigga, I ain't with the push games I been getting money from back then, what your name?
Back in 2009 Lloyd Banks released the song "Me And My Strap" featuring the late, great Nipsey Hussle. This is off of Lloyd's "4-30-09 (Happy Birthday)" mixtape.
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks] I don't need a homie, I can watch my own back Just me and my strap Just me and my strap Riding with her on my lap 'cause niggas don't know how to act Just me and my strap Just me and my strap Sour Diesel by the pound and money coming by the stack I need it like that I need it like that On point 'cause niggas hate it when your shit is on track Just me and my strap Just me and my strap
[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks] No sleep no reply, look a coward in his eyes Unnecessary lies, just how a nigga fry Respect to the sky, Gotti power 'til I die If I'm at a house party, shotty probably on the side Smoke, poly, then I slide Goin' whoop wolly on the ride Southside, home of the pride, where did you ride? Guide, I want my mama house same size Obama house Madonna house, Fendi rugs, Louis sink, and Prada couch Small money make tall money, every dollar counts Tall money means more money, bring the diamonds out Who you think you is? 'Cause I know who you are We know where you be, you will be in D-E-E-P Shit happens when you yip yappin' I got both Blood and Crip backing Don't get your shit smacked I got a stupid buzz and a wardrobe I only like to use for clubs Day and night I'm used to hugs
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks] I don't need a homie, I can watch my own back Just me and my strap Just me and my strap Riding with her on my lap 'cause niggas don't know how to act Just me and my strap Just me and my strap Sour Diesel by the pound and money coming by the stack I need it like that I need it like that On point 'cause niggas hate it when your shit is on track Just me and my strap Just me and my strap
[Verse 2: Nipsey Hussle] Listen, look, pistol grip pump on my lap at all times I got to many enemies for you to ask why My city is a warzone and there's two sides So where I come from, niggas murder to survive Look, my purpose is to ride Above you fake faggot motherfuckers I despise 745 when I ride by, yeah, my bitch fly Smokers in the sky, why ask why My Glock provide hollow tips for the homicide My block alive, Frankenstein, I'm a problem child Somebody tell 'em crack mailers makes mamas cry This MAC 11 crack selling, check my Slauson style I stay fly 'cause I ain't focused on falling down I'm ballin' now, so all my ex-bitches calling now I fuck and clown, kick 'em out and make a song about it You talkin' 'bout that drama, boy, I'm all about it Me and my pistol press a issue, we the squad about it
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks] I don't need a homie, I can watch my own back Just me and my strap Just me and my strap Riding with her on my lap 'cause niggas don't know how to act Just me and my strap Just me and my strap Sour Diesel by the pound and money coming by the stack I need it like that I need it like that On point 'cause niggas hate it when your shit is on track Just me and my strap Just me and my strap
[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks] Niggas don't wanna see you paid Niggas rather see you broke Nigga rather be a hater Fitted more than a scope Lloyd got the game in choke Figure four, in a yoke Motherfucker, have a plan That's more important than hope What's more important than life? Better get you a gun, get you a knife 'Cause if they'll get you once, they'll get you twice Trife life, neighborhood stripes and white ice Nice flights, came a long way from mountain bikes Too many niggas in, server gets the message out Snitches burn bridges when the cops take the pressure out Real recognize that ain't real, what can I say? Like Pac, I'd rather be a N-I-G-G-A Getting twisted all day on that OG K No time to play, a nigga don't move, he don't get paid Hey, pass the zay, so I can get some groupie love Blow job and Gucci glove, orgy and a Gucci tub
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks] I don't need a homie, I can watch my own back Just me and my strap Just me and my strap Riding with her on my lap 'cause niggas don't know how to act Just me and my strap Just me and my strap Sour Diesel by the pound and money coming by the stack I need it like that I need it like that On point 'cause niggas hate it when your shit is on track Just me and my strap Just me and my strap
It's sad whenever an artist you grew up admiring, listening to and learning jewels from passes away, but when Prodigy of Mobb Deep died it was really tough.
Bandana P will always remain in my top 5 favorite emcees of all time.
Rip Prodigy
Check out this official music "Serious: The Message," a song that I don't believe got it's proper shine.
[Hook] Please, whenever you see me out, you see me up clean Rollin niggas, niggas go to sleep at sixteen Murdered over nothing, don't let nothing come between Anything I stand for, my kingdom, my team Hating breaking them up, but it don't break me Bang for a bang, whatever its gon' be Niggas sell dreams, ain't always how it seems Whichever way it leans, money by any means
[Verse 1] You're stuck in the same spot, you bank stopped Man, I'm eating like a fat nigga, your weight dropped All my weed do different things, space pot Show the respect you get at kings, or take shots Thank god for the liquor store, a fifth or more I'm a different kind of nigga boy, forget the law All they want to do search the truck, and rip the floor Find something worth pinning on me, submit the raw This is 2k wordplay, the harsh realities Of where me and my son stay, the technicalities Will bring him back one day, there's fatalities So don't move the dumb way, cars clapped Man I come from where it's hard at Society made my heart black, arms spat I ain't your guardian god, you can starve, black I think their watching, phone wiring, and calls tapped Watch how you talk back
[Hook] Please, whenever you see me out, you see me up clean Rollin niggas, niggas go to sleep at sixteen Murdered over nothing, don't let nothing come between Anything I stand for, my kingdom, my team Hating breaking them up, but it don't break me Bang for a bang, whatever its gon' be Niggas sell dreams, ain't always how it seems Whichever way it leans, money by any means
[Verse 2] This is not hip-hop, this is hypnosis Of course, it's New York's bosses, gold crosses Don't cross us, punk summersault corpses Martini bombs through your office, uh Ain't nobody stopping me, the hate ain't enough My flow is one big gun waiting to bust They don't bring shit in the game, they take it from us I got millionaire neighbours still making a fuss I can't even give a beat down, they want cheese now Therefore I gotta keep my lawyer on speed dial Top speedometers, my shit'll hit two hundred Titanium lama you can get it if you want it I can feel it in my stomach, I got an extra sense And I've been benefiting from it, my flow is off the bench Wrote my whole album blunted, don't get confronted I'm a natural-born baller, if I showed up I stunted
[Hook] Please, whenever you see me out, you see me up clean Rollin niggas, niggas go to sleep at sixteen Murdered over nothing, don't let nothing come between Anything I stand for, my kingdom, my team Hating breaking them up, but it don't break me Bang for a bang, whatever its gon' be Niggas sell dreams, ain't always how it seems Whichever way it leans, money by any means
}