DJ Whoo Kid - n***as lyrics

[Intro: Puff Daddy] Shadyville Entertainment Bad Boy collaboration [Uncredited vocals] I love n***as, I love n***as Because n***as are me And I should only love that which is me I love to see n***as go through changes I love to see n***as shoot the sh** But there's one thing about n***as I do not love [Notorious B.I.G.] To all my Brooklyn To all my Uptown To all my Bronx To all my Queensbridge [Verse 1: Notorious B.I.G.] Back up chump, you know Biggie Smalls grips it quick And kicks it quick - you know how black n***as get With the hoods, fatigues; with the boots, with trees Smoking weed, flipping keys, making crazy G's Hitting buckshots at n***as that open spots On the avenue, take my loot, and I'm bagging you Pimping hoes that drive Volvos and Rodeos Flash the roll, make them wet in their pantyhose Damn, a n***a style is unorthodox Grip the Glock, when I walk down the crowded blocks Just in case a n***a wanna act out I just black out, and blow they motherf**in back out [Hook: 50 Cent] (x2) We the realest n***a 50 Cent and B.I.G. my n***a Don't try to act like you don't feel us n***a Biggie yo' n***a, 50 yo' n***a Squeeze the trigger, leave a n***a fo' sho'! [Verse 2: Notorious B.I.G.] Yo, we smoke spliffs, we pack four-fifths Just in case Dread wanna riff He get a free lift to the cemetery, rough very Not your ordinary, we watch you get buried That's a real n***a for ya' Get mad do a quarter, flip the script, and rip your lawyer Spit at the D.A., because f** what she say She don't give a f** about your a** anyway Up North bound first stop, Watertown or Fishscale Where the hand sk**s are real ill You'll be a super Hoover doo-doo stain remover Ha-ha, yo chief, pa** the buddha [Hook] [Verse 3: 50 Cent] When I was young my M.O. was to go hand in hand Even my P.O., she called me "the Ginger Bread Man" I catch a new case, and tell her a**: "Catch me if you can" Don't let your people fill you up with octane, I'm not playing Get ga**ed up, to get blast up Real B.I.G. style watch the kid break it down Check it: thou shalt not f** with, nor see Poppa 50 Cent, I'll break yo' punk a** off proper There's no place like home, New York! New York! I run this city, and I don't dance around like Diddy n***as is giddy, till they're smacked silly Or sprayed with the MAC milli, they don't want drama really p**y n***as get hard, lip syncing my lyrics, like Milli Vanilli In the hood they feel me {*Gun co*k*} ha! I'm on fire! n***as out in Philly they feel me, they bump my sh** {*Gunshot*} Every bootlegger you know, pump my sh** - b**h! [Hook]