What Happened to That Boy?

[Hook - Pusha T] (Brrrrrrrrrrr!) What happened to that boy? (Brrrrrrrrrrr!) What happened to that boy? (Brrrrrrrrrrr!) What happened to that boy? He was talking shit we put a clap into that boy [Verse 1 - Malice] I heard they snitching on a player; man, say it ain't so Even as a young'un they consigned me to blow Which explains why I'm worth my weight in gold While they was taking baby steps from an 8th to an O Word in the streets that the envy is me Enough ice on that watch to make a nigga lose sleep Magnified face help the bitch see clearly 9 on the waist, hit the bitch up severely I'm known for the flip of that coca-ina I'm heavy in the street like the 7 series Beema' man Hit 'em with the Nina man Or that 4/5th guaranteed to lean ya man I'm the reason that your block is vacant Malicious will hit you just to make a statement Bitch! Clipse and Cash Money: who ain't rich? Don't compare me to you, nigga, you ain't this [Hook] [Verse 2 - Birdman] Stunna and Patty Cake, the worldwide Pusha Birdman, nigga, leave the guns in the bushes Been shitting up bricks, unload 'em to Gucci Boss of the ghetto with the round-shape cookie Shit one, throw one, nigga: flood the block If I don't go to jail, nigga, birds gon' flock Nigga sitting on the toilet: bitch, get off the pot! The bird just landed so the hood gonna rot New whips, big chips, the Prada Gucci shit Bought mami a fly Benz, the wide skinny lips She takes my flight, she holds my weight While the po-po staked out from state to state It ain't nothing to a baller, baby Pay the cost, big money, heavy weight, Birdman, hood boss, baby Stepping on my line, I'll show a little something Make Corleone come out And then the black crow will touch ya [Hook] [Verse 3 - Pusha T] Yuugh Another soul lost Had to make his shirt match my ox-blood-colored Porsche Yuugh, the rims match of course Blood hit his Timbs, it reminded me of them Glistening, wrist on chilla Gun in the same palm: a gorgeous killa I put this on my Lord: my niece was 4 when she felt chinchilla I passed the chauffeur that shit that made fiends rise from the dead like "Thriller" Gangster...hustler At night still found time to kiss my mother Live like I'm dreaming, kick my feet up Gun poked my waist, remind me of my demon So quit your yappin' before I get to clappin' And have your body parts mix and matchin' fella [Hook]