Junior M.A.F.I.A. - f** You (feat. Junior M.A.F.I.A.) lyrics

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Junior M.A.F.I.A. - f** You (feat. Junior M.A.F.I.A.) lyrics

[Verse One: Trife] Nine shots greet ya, greet ya; hang with Lil' Cease-ah But don't sling pizza, pizza The gat carryin, rap barbarian Ninety-six Blake Carrington I brings the most dangerous diseases Trife please MC's of all types h*mos**uals, dykes, intellectuals like my flow, my charm Wifey on the arm and stay f**ing other b**hes Style never switches Inhale, exhale, bail Nino Brown out For shootin up a townhouse in Hempstead, kids fled Rumors was dead, no beef with no cliques n***as don't want sh**, Trife impresses Lexus GS's, chicks in iceberg dresses Who the best is? M.A.F.I.A But f*ggot n***as wanna spoil it Stop me from having marble faucets and gold toilets I force it down your throat like sodomy; mama proud of me Cause I stopped k**ing n***as for free [Verse Two: Lil' Kim] Uhh, uhh The Anne Klein sportin coke, snortin n***as lovely I keep my p**y Fresh like Doug E.; watch the show As my flow bubble over like Mo's and Cristal's Ain't scared to bust my pist-al, sippin hard on Cristal Dream accounts, large amounts Cause Frank don't play with lye money, get high money Ready to die Grady, no if's, and's, or maybe's I'm not your average lady; put that on my 380 Me and my b**h catch flights to Texas n***as call us Crystal and Alexis Bump into some hoes that be in Houston boostin' Trunk full of Donna Karan in the rental LeBaron Uh, who us? We just swervin', in the dark blue Suburban Drinking Bourbon, with Heinekens for the chaser Police'll never chase us we too fly for that Processed and fingerprinted we too dime for that I be, flirtin' for certain, wearing short skirts and But ain't no dicks insertin' see, that's the difference Between me and other b**hes, they f** to get they riches I f** to bust a nut, Lil' Kim not a s*ut I gotta reputation to look out for Plus my boss is a outlaw [Notorious B.I.G.] Uhhh... motherf**ers think they tough guys Motherf**ers better hold hands stepping up f*ggot a** motherf**ers They really ain't no true players [Verse Three: Larceny] d**h comes to those that oppose the clique Dick-riders get off the dick Cause, Larceny got guns for y'all And if I get bagged my lawyers got tons of ones for y'all Catching cases, n***as pull they macs out n***as getting mad cause I dug they backs out Then I blacks out, start shooting kids Cribs is vicious, making my escape jumping bridges Malicious - sometimes the danger taste delicious Rule number three; don't take love from no b**hes You know what makes me much stronger than you I can take pain much longer than you So what you gon' do when I run up in that a**-crease How you wanna spit a grease?