DMX Niggaz Done Started Something Lyrics

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Yo, hey yo let's get papers and pop Mo' with holes up in skyscrapers
In condominiums, overlooking our drug capers
New York City, know only way to play is gritty
I want cheddar, so we can front up in the 850
My whole commity like to puff L's and look jiggy
Who wan' test this? My semi leave you chestless
And ain't **** that you can say to me when you be breathless
Young, but I done did **** that you won't do
So go ahead wit the bullshit you blab about going through
I got *****s who pump on yo' block and in yo' spot
Who sit next to you? Protecting you?
But they'll murder you, player
Don status, ***** we getting chipsesis
And bad *****sesis, fronting, fronting in eclipses

Hey yo, Mase and The Lox
We taking knots from the out of state spots
Any ***** make it hot, get found in vacant lot
You don't really wanna come try, the one guy
Who stay dumb high from blunt lye
The rack of sing-sing alumni
Who got more beef than a Islamic farm
So I pack enough sonic arms to neutralize atomic bombs
It's not a ***** in your gang want it
My AK slay gays, spray strays with *****s names on it
Often I bug, then we'll soften a thug
Have a chump coughing blood, fill his coffin with slugs
Yo, you know I got enough guns to wreck a nation
Any ***** wave a Tec at Mase, and, have a explanation
You bring your crew and em and I'm doing 'em
Then I'm beating em down with aluminum
Then I'm putting two in em
You can't touch me, I've been devil sent, wanted for embezzlement
A lot of other things, but that's irrelevant

If you love the money, then prepare to die for it
*****s done started something
You can lay in the flames, or hug the sky for it
*****s done started something
If you love the money, then prepare to die for it
*****s done started something
You can lay in the flames, or hug the sky for it
*****s done started something

Yo, check out the kid that get coke like Sosa
Never turned down chocha, be in the Costa
Rica, sipping margaritas wit a mami
Cleaning my Tommy, showing love to my army
Whenever The Lox find rippy blocks, we kill em
Yeah I hear *****s, but I still don't feel em
And this for the listeners, and prisoners
And them jealous rap cats that prefer dissing us
My 16's be so real, you can feel em in your vain
Like Ramello's pops from Sugarhill
J be the cause for the kiss at your wake
Cartel lips, spitting clips at your face
We started from the bottom
You'll see bad *****s pardon, whatever
We can do it at the Garden
Word life, this **** is real big
I'm making *****s blow trial even if they not guilty

I want a palace for my thugs, wit oriental rugs
Green bags from drugs, get wacked for the love
Twenty *****s batter me, still couldn't shatter me
I'm only getting up, splitting up your anatomy
Official lock family, grants *****s handing me
I want the finer things, and I hope you understanding me
Sitting at the table, planning and plug the fan in
Let the sweat dry off and then grab your cannon
Think you smartest, and retaliate the hardest, regardless
If you a thug or a rap artist, respect me like Pesci
And if rap was hockey, I be Gretzky, puffin Nestle
Any ya *****s done started something
Acting invincible like you god or something
If you god, then I'ma makes a lot til you rot
And if you a player, then play for everything you got
And if you a thug, then start busting off shots
And if you a dog, you better bite before you bark


Don't came at me wit no bullshit, use caution
Cause when I wet ****, I dead ****, like abortions
For bigger portions, of extortion then racketeering
Got *****s fearing, **** what you heard, this what you hearing
How much darker must it get, how much harder must it hit
See if your hardest *****s flip, when I start a bunch of ****
I like *****, but not up in my face, so gimme three feet
Cause when we creep, no more than three deep, *****s see sheep
Bloodhounds found your **** buried in the mud
Following traces of gun powder, residue and blood
A positive ID is impossible, so you know
John Doe is what they gon' be putting on that tag on yo' toe
Now who gon tell yo mother, her baby's under a cover in the morgue
Stiff as a log, sniffed out by the dogs
Son of a hard headed ***** that wouldn't listen
So you got what you came for
What's that?

Surgery wit the chainsaw, I hit the ****ing streets
Cause like I said before ain't nothing going down until I eat
************s think it's all about impressing *****es and stressing *****es
Well, I'm testing *****es game, addressing *****es, and caressing *****es
And dealing wit ************s on all levels
What I'm dealing wit is all devils, ****ing with snakes
Running wit *****s you call rebels
I got an army of 730 *****s, dirty *****s
That come through and worry *****s
30 *****s that like to bury *****s
And scary *****s get it all the time
Cause what they got is all of mine
Your man was talking **** until I pulled the nine
And if I don't know you, I don't **** with you
And if you wit my man, then he getting stuck with you
And gave it the money
Cause I just lost my mind when he crossed the line
Sent his back through his chest
Then I tossed the nine, boss of crime
Black Gotti, I stack bodies wit the black shotty
*****-*** *****s who act snotty
Get it

These *****s is for real
These *****s ain't playing

This ain't no ****ing game
You think we playing?
Ruff Ryders

Written by: Damon Blackmon, Sean Jacobs, David Styles, Jason Phillips, Mason Betha, Earl Simmons
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group

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