Lyrics Street Certified - M.O.P., Mobb Deep

Street Certified

I’m P.K.A.
the one and only
Infamous soldier I kill for Mobb Deep
I rose through the ranks from the bottom
Now I got mad decorations and medals of honor
War scars, I goes hard
Like I’m fresh out the joint with homegirl in the hotel
You can’t out rap me, I’m out your league
And you don’t want no trouble, I cremate beef
At point blank range your brains’ll catch fire
My brain on another level think outside of the little hip-hop box
I’m like a robot, I don’t tire, I’m wired, I could do this forever
Like who want what?
They don’t want nothing done
They just fans, got my whole collection
I’ll make your chick’s head bop, she recognize real
Where she hearing it, high heels
I air your block out, feed a clip full to your homies
Animal habitat, pit bulls and parolees
Peel off on gixxers with my codies
Push it to the limit, red line, fuck the police
You know me, been O to the G
Since you was to them jeans with the holes in the knee
Play blood sport, catch a bad one from your idol
Commentated by Gus Johnson and you go viral
Lead by example, y’all niggas follow
Every DJ with us, Serato know my motto
I talk more shit than Howard Cosell
'Cause your buzz is done, how the fuck you gon' sell?
M.O.P.'s the Mobb, we deep, on the job, we creep
I’m talking twenty-four-seven 'cause they starve the streets
This is ghetto gospel, right hand to Jesus
I’m the Apostle, Brownsville hostile
We still do it like we 'sposed to, street certified
Most of y’all switched up, but we prefer to ride
(It's the real) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Bucka) Blaow
(It's the real) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Bucka) Blaow
We still do it like we 'sposed to, street certified
Most of y’all switched up but we prefer to ride
(It's the real) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Bucka) Blaow
(It's the real) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Bucka) Blaow
It can never be over, we don’t bury the hatch
Acting like you didn’t, you know it’s better than that
M.O.P.
and M.O.B., now what’s better than that?
This that, «Leave a nigga leaking on that club floor» rap
Beat a nigga Kool-Aid purple out this bitch
Nigga always trying to show his ass around a bitch
I’m good money everywhere, you cowards counterfeit
Don’t let your ass write a check you can’t cash in
Body bags on deck you get wrapped in
Them guns busting like shit was going out of fashion
That N.Y.C.
gritty nigga with a chip
On my shoulder, first nigga say I’m hating, getting hit
I’m the truth, truth heard 'em, give a fuck, I’m your burden
Least of your problems, fuck around, need a surgeon
'Cause we here thirsting, if you there splurging
Show over motherfucker, pull the curtain
Look how they try to play me on this playground
Try to force me to leave
They tried to X me out, good thing I held it down
I was taught to believe it’s best to exchange rounds
And to remain down until my remains is found
I face criticism because of a dangerous sound
A lot of underhanded shit that never brought me down
I’m Billy Danze, I move freely through any town
I’m like a prophet, niggas see me and put it down
(Full responsibility when niggas O.D.)
O.G.
in the trauma room is because of me
Every nigga in possession of a llama know me
The nigga sitting next to Obama know me
I’m in the street like street lights, never low key
M.O.P., M.O.B.B.
is all the hood need
I don’t get it through the pipe lines, I’ma go see
I’m positioned between an icon and an O. G
We still do it like we 'sposed to, street certified
Most of y’all switched up, but we prefer to ride
(It's the real) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Bucka) Blaow
(It's the real) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Bucka) Blaow
We still do it like we 'sposed to, street certified
Most of y’all switched up but we prefer to ride
(It's the real) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Bucka) Blaow
(It's the real) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Buck) Bucka (Bucka) Blaow