Styles P - Last Supper lyrics

[Intro: Jadakiss] Sad, pitiful this is what it's come to You know, f** it Real n***a gonna surface f** n***as gonna drown Aha Sound session [Verse 1: Jadakiss and (Styles P)] A hunger pain that make n***a hateful That's why you can't bring bread with the ungrateful He can't look in your eyes and he can't (face you) Wait for them to try, he can't (wait to) I rather die out here just to [?] I had from nine to five (I sold base too) I beat the sh** out of n***as (I got a case too) And when I ate, I make sure everybody ate too Only God could judge us, only n***as can do us (rich) They probably (underestimate you) But still f** how he gonna feel, (f** you know the deal) The last supper is three course meal (last supper) All I see it's G's (sitting at the table) Guns waiting keys ([?]) Money from the street (money from the label, money) Ridin' out for Pac (like the n***a fatal) Ridin' out to Big (like the n***a gutta) You ain't ride (f** you n***a I ain't studder) He ain't studder but the gun is studder (Ratatatatat) motherf**er Little n***as respect Elvis Slept with pretty b**hs that got you down like Grasel (Deblanco) (Less coupes stashed in the console) Last supper I let a hundred bricks on the [?] [Hook: Game] Spaghetti dinners and ready n***as Jesus it's able Looking at [?] nothing but [?] in my table My steady conversations Don't let the devil touch ya Nothing but G's around the table for the last supper Walkin' on water with baking soda to get my cake up Breaking bread with forty theives hoping god save us Looking all I see is G's at the table Looking all I see is G's at the table [Verse 2: Game and (Ar-16)] Kiss tell sheik I gotta hustle like Russel Burn us right in your face (never needed a muzzle) 16 in the Glock extendos for the tussle (16 at the cop, don't let the motherf**er cuff you) LA you get shot down (New York gon cut you) When the last time you've been to church (n***a we don't trust you) Like the bands front line (n***a we'll rush you) Laughing over your body, we the one you look up to Father figures (we raise guns) pull all the triggers (They be sitting in birds) We be sonning all you n***as When it's time to ride we in that Cutless smothered up (We real gangstas) VH1 was just a cover up Worldstar knock-out king (time to knuckle up) We ride from California, n***a so buckle up (We got a team full of k**ers when we huddle up) Dead bodies everywhere (corners bring the shuttle bus) n***as gotta f** with us (if not we f** you up) b**hes can get it too, bus driver with the upper cut (Kiss barrels) pucker up (ain't nobody scortching us) Drama with the four of us (I'll make you n***as organed up) Bad boys (always come through with enough to puff) Like the 95' rap n***as (still roll a dutch) We got grenades in our bags Glock's Justin Tuck (That [?] automatic start) go on and press your luck [Hook]