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    The Prodigy / Lyrics

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    "H.N.I.C. (Outro)" Lyrics

    The Prodigy

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    Lyrics

    Yo, it gets no better than this
    It's the hottest shit on street
    It move units like Shania Twain on a Mobb beat
    The solar system stand still
    Gods listen when I speak the world pay attention

    It's capital P, niggaz rather hang up
    Ya niggaz know my handle, talkin' like you straight thug
    Dunn, I catch you while you shoppin' for kicks
    Surprise bitch, shoot outs is spontaneous

    And, oh from now on, call me Columbo
    'Cause I come through wrinkled up, think I give a fuck?
    Look at my chain, look at my anklet
    But are you listenin' to the words man? My shit bang kid

    Nigga I run this shit, I set the trend, you get the dick
    That's basically it, these rap niggaz think I'm talkin' 'bout them
    Nigga please, you ain't in my league, jus' follow my lead

    I be the H.N.I.C.
    The head nigga in charge
    The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
    The M.O.B.B., the status, we large
    The guns, the drama, the love, the Mobb

    The H.N.I.C., the head nigga in charge
    The guns, the drama, the love, the Mobb
    The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
    The M.O.B.B., the status, we large

    I'm all over, me and my dogs enjoy this
    We pop bottles, celebrate your death blow a kiss
    At your wittle bitch, wish pain on your kids
    Piss on your casket kick ya tombstone and shit, dog

    And I ain't even that foul type a dude
    But all's fair in love and war it's whatcha hand called for
    Now ya mans wanna ride for your cause
    But fuck it, they could get it too, simple as you

    And I be goddamned if they put they hands on me
    Money brings power and puts guns in parties
    Sends niggaz on Amtrak with those for your body
    It pays for thirty plane tickets if we got beef, huh
    Hardly, you all know what that is

    I grew up in the hoods and the projects
    Wit dope fiends and crack heads
    Teenage killers with Mack-10s
    Best friends cut each other's throat
    And twist they own fan backwards

    Maybe that'd live now, I'm on some rap shit
    Album sold out keeps me far from the big house
    The hand guns from that bigger house
    'cause ain't nobody cuttin' for me to enforce to hold it down like

    The H.N.I.C.
    The head nigga in charge
    The guns, the drama, the love, the Mobb
    The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
    The MOBB, the status, we large

    The H.N.I.C., the head nigga in charge
    The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
    The MOBB, the status, we large
    The guns, the drama, the love, the Mobb
    This song was submitted on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Albert Johnson.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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