N.F.L. (Not For Long)

Masta Ace: Yeah, Yeah....Check it... (Verse One) All yall niggas better jet cause I'm a giant Rap supplying, nigga that's raw like a Lion I come from Brooklyn, land of robbers and Steelers And drug dealers, that's more truck than eighteen wheelers And last week this nigga named Ben, this drug Chief From Brownsville that got stuck up and now it's beef Cuz words out, that it was Shaquan from Cypress Hills Who came off, with two hundred thou in small bills But he forgot a Cardinal rule of the street You do dirt, you keep your mouth shut, or feel the heat Stupid! The very next day he bought a Benz And came back 'round the way waving to his friends His brand new 420 was milked like a Cow- Boy, screaming, "How ya'll like me now?" But you know how niggas is, they see and they Hawk They get jealous when you pop shit, and then they talk And Ben got hoes on the streets as well One of Ben Gal's overheard this kid Latrell And he was saying, that he was down with Shaquan And if he didn't get a green Jaguar, then it was on He was mad, cuz his man, was living larger And he was still driving 'round his mom's dodge Charger With no rims and beat up timbs, he played us Sayin he'd hold the dough, the feds could Raidas And in two weeks, everybody'd get they cut When Ben found out it was them he said "what?" He got on the phone and called his little gun Packers Cuz they dressed like Black Panthers and drive geo trackers And Broncos, with big ass tires and dark tint And they all carried dessert Eagles, that's how it went (Verse Two) It's sunday night and my team just lost Plus the Dolphins got blown out by Randy Moss And the Vikings, I'm inside the food spot on new lots Gettin some chicken, that's spicy hot With french fries, "Give me the combo, number 3" I hear *car horn* I look outside and who I see? I see Shaquan, pushing his Benz, it's pearl white With white leather, he four deep, and looking tight In his new whip, he's with these cats I've never seen I can tell, they ain't no Saints, they lookin' mean He pulls up, in front of this weed spot, disguised And jumps out, drinking his Colt 45 In a tall can, he go the the door and start breakin' On Red, who run the spot, this old Jamaican Like forty-nine or fifty years old, he's making ends And Shaquan be fuckin with, one of Red's Kins Named Keisha, but anyway, they arguing These three jeeps roll pass fast in unison They make u-turns, and I'm like "Yo, not being rude But word up, hurry the fuck up with my food" But it's too late, the first jeep, the one in the lead Rams the back of the benz at full speed And all I could do is whistle And watch bullets fly through the windshield like Patriot missles The other two jeeps, jet black as Falcons pull up screeching But Shaquan ain't reaching Four or five cats jump out, holding heat And check on the niggas dead up in the back seat Red the Jamaican thows his hands in the air He like, "Bloodclot...whats all of this Buccaneer?" But niggas ain't care if he was down with them or not Wrong place, wrong time, and they both got shot (gun blast) Thirty minutes later, police is everywhere The murder scene is way to grizzly for me to Bear So for players, better peep this song When you on top, feeling yourself, its Not For Long (echo to fade) Yeah...to all my beats and rhymes niggas ...yeah...M.A....J-Love