| P, P, P, P
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| P, P, P, P
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| Who holding down NYC huh?
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| P, P, P, P
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| Yeah, listen
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| It don’t matter who popping for the moment
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| P is forever, it don’t matter what’s the new hot shit
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| My shit better, courtesy of myself, thanks to me
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| I’ve work hard to come with these
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| Sixteen’s is much more than a rap, this is pure facts
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| You see what’s really good when you catch him by himself
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| Dolly, I leave a fool holy like Jesus Christ
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| It’s a miracle he still living
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| And you could say a whole life time of prayer
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| But you never in this lifetime player be the mayor of the murder murder
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| Killer killer, bloody rap songs out the slums in the squala
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| Made a few dollars, now they say I’m too rich
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| I give some to you, now a nigga cool
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| Ha, I ain’t got two cents for you bums
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| Now watch as I burn rubber in the six-huns
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| CL made my gun ring a bell
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| Where the shots came from they never can tell
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| They just here to fire and everybody bails
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| One nigga on the ground dying in hell
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| Fo’real!
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| H I J K L M O
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| P P P P P P P
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| And numero uno P
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| There’s no other
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| Kids tell 'em who I be
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| H I J K L M O
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| P P P P P P P
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| The one and only
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| H.N.I.C. |
| who holding NYC huh?
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| Listen, R.I.P season begins
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| Dead bodies popping up, niggas getting hit
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| Others getting beat the fuck out and bashed out
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| MOP style, they get mashed out
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| I razor blade you up and cut you bad
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| You gon' need plastic where your face’s at
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| Boy I’ll bullet riddle you up and chop you into parts
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| Then scatter you all over the East Coast, kiko
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| You’re playing with your life
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| You play with me you’re like a baby running with a knife
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| You’re upset your wife got my CD in the changer
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| And you rap too and she don’t bump your bangers
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| Your shit wack and then on top
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| Your life style don’t match the shit you pop
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| This is gon' be simple 'cause you’re easy
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| Like 1 2 3, I do it niggas greasy as… |