Rob and Vic

*two gun shots* It's a story about two brothers, Rob and Vic Grew up in the world alone God forgot about them, hmm Forced to fend for themselves In the Rotten Apples of New York City This story takes place, in 1993 How many nigs did we get so far? I couldn't care to count Just snatch em up quick If he scream, I'mma put him out I put the heat to his face to SHUT HIM UP So I can dig him out Went in his pockets and got the cash in some big amounts I looked him dead cold in his eyes, *blast* without carin If money speak, that explain the voices I've been hearin You ain't really have to kill him Yo God he moved -- but I lied Damn, there's our sick stick-up turned homicide So? That's the way our momma died Is you with me I'mma slide [Both] So we slid, had to get our gameplan together Cause this little bit of stickup loot ain't lastin us forever Desperate, on the edge with no place to go We can't go back to the hood we stuck up everyone we know Chorus: *sung* For the love of money, people will rob from each other For the love of money, people will steal from their mother For the love of money, people will kill their own brother.. Now everytime I hear a fuckin siren, my heart skip a beat I'm paranoid, every face I see I think he after me Supposedly We was supposed to be gettin work from this large cat But since we know where he rest at -- we goin Bogart! Son frontin so hard Heard he had a hundred G's alone on his Gold Card His crab wife showed me mad cash in her blouse She said he the mad stash at the house Couldn't pass up a jooks like this anyday Anyway On our way there, I'm feelin bad vibes Yo kid don't say that That's when we bumped heads With vicks that we stuck from way back, up on Atlantic The way them niggas lookin God they drivin mad frantic Yo don't panic, trust me What? I jump back and bust em Shots through they windshield, they ain't wearin shields Hit the kid behind the steering wheel *car horn* it's the way I feel In a state to kill I wanna watch him DIE Wait and chill We got bigger fish to fry, two L's later In a Bed-Stuy elevator, got off the fifth floor Water hit the skull, ready KICK THE DOOR Off the hinges Bust shots by entrance Only thing I saw was a nigga four-four His gun jammed He tried to run and, reach for a knife Shot him in the leg So think about your life And tell me where the loot's at He said, "I'll tell you just don't shoot black!" With the sight of fear, dragged him down six flight of stairs To the basement, and in someway, he had a trap door in the pavement Smacked him with the gun, kicked him out the way Had to be at least 500 K Now hear come the bitch, talkin bout her share of the wealth So we put her and the husband out And we went for self Chorus Yo, we fuckin came off! Word The plan was splendid 'Cept we got all this money, and can't even spend it Shh, let's disappear Yea yea And be outta this place So much dirt and shit we did it's hard to show our face So we bounced out of town and went down to Miami Cause most those cats we crabbed was like family Now me and you beefin, nah it can't be true It all started when all we had was just me and you Now a whole different person is what I'm startin to see in you 'Member when we had the new Lex With the two Techs, rollin to the duplex, drinkin Stout Thinkin bout, what we gonna do next, we used to work tight Half-assed cars, down to dirt bikes Hopin everything will go right, with the snow white And in number spots that flow all night Up to this day it was all tight Man, FUCK THAT! You my little brother and we came out the same pussy But I'mma kill you, you dummy, you FUCKED UP MY MONEY! Nah, the money fucked YOU up Tryin to say the money changed me? What you think, I'm your brother, you got a gun in my face see What??! How can one tiny mistake, make you wannaerase me Fuck that! You cut a side deal, that's why they raided the block Now how the fuck I'm 'sposed to know the undercover was a cop Son you been fuckin with them niggas! Look just put down the gun and let this bullshit slide Nigga I ain't puttin down SHIT I'm tellin you let's just chill man FUCK THAT NIGGA! It don't gotta be this way man WHAT NIGGA? IT GOTTA BE THIS WAY! IT DON'T GOTTA BE LIKE THIS MAN! IT GOTTA BE NIGGA! THEN GO AHEAD AND PULL THE TRIGGER!! THINK I WON'T? FUCK YOU! YOU KNOW YOU AIN'T GON' DO IT! FUCK YOU! *gun blasts* Chorus cont. with - Don't let money change you! - before fade