Pablo Doe

Lyrics

[Chorus: N.O.R.E.] Cocaine on the table, for the bosses and the soldiers Gotta be cairful on the block, [?] rollers Hold a pistola, [?] hard like ariola And still hit me on that Blackberry Motorola Cause [?] They notice me Stick up kids [?], they notice me Groupies with they ass out, they notice me When it's time to cash out, they know it's green [Verse 1: Styles P] [?] on the block, on some rest in peace shit Hopping out the Beemer, with the SMG kit [?] Touched on your cheek, cause you on some sweet shit Yeah I'm on a quest, but my name ain't Tip Imma tribe though, [?] killers in the [?] S.P. the Ghost, and I'm coming from Y.O Why oh why [?] drink capachino? [?] MC Light, I got my MC [?] But I get dark, when the beat [?] [?] Green beat, tougher than [?] street Talking size 38, call it the G heat Sawed off shotty, call it the [?] Send you to the spearet world, nigga I'm ghostly Talking bullshit, don't even aproach me Imma squeeze first, like I'm [?] [Verse 2: N.O.R.E.] Wake up in the morning, 4 5th to your face That's [?] that's called scared straight Shoot you in the stomach, [?] that ass [?] [?] [?] love me, when I put in work See they get word, that's why people keep getting hurt Keep getting murked, put the kush in the sticky The rest of that weed, straight suck like hickies And I ain't impressed, with all the tough talk [?] [?] the crew, but a shooter when I'm single [?] your legs, have you running like a track meet And I got bullits same size as Shaq feet You running through the backstreets, catch him on the av, yo Hands in the air, give me everything you have, yo Strip you on the block, that's called showing your ass, yo Have you running home to your moms, you chump asshole [Verse 3: Styles P] I need Pablo doe, I rob, I don't boro doe [?] lotto doe I need Pablo doe, I rob, I don't boro doe [?] I got lotto doe [?] party out in Kyro, yo Life good, but you can get the hollo though [?] the pussy, watch who you follo though Fuck around, and you won't see tomorrow, bro [Verse 4: Uncle Murda] I don't like broke niggas around me They always begging, you know how they get down, [?] I told my [?] yo, I got my own money [?] I got my own money And whoever I get on the record with Know that gangsta shit is what they better spit They don't want dudes in the city Talking 'bout how I killed the [?] get busy I make the labels P. Diddy them Forget about them like Craig Mack, I just Biggied them If I was god, I [?] knew J. Read was a cop, I would've hit him [?] with the cock If I was Neno, I wouldn't have gave [?] [?] still be sexing G-Money broad Tight jean niggas, man, this for the streets You know I go extra hard, on them Green Lan beats [Chorus: N.O.R.E.] Cocaine on the table, for the bosses and the soldiers Gotta be cairful on the block, [?] rollers Hold a pistola, [?] hard like ariola And still hit me on that Blackberry Motorola Cause [?] They notice me Stick up kids [?], they notice me Groupies with they ass out, they notice me When it's time to cash out, they know it's green