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 Rate Victory 2004
Artist : P. Diddy
Song : Victory 2004
(Feat. Notorious B.I.G., 50 Cent, Busta Rhymes,
Lloyd Banks)
Yo the sun don't shine
forever but as long as its here we minus well
shine togeher
Better now than never business
before pleasure
P-Diddy and the Fam, who you
know do it better?
Yeah right, no matter what,
we air tight
So when you hear somethin, make
sure you hear it right
Don't make a ass outta
yourself, by assumin
Our music keeps you
movin, what are you provin?
You know that I'm
two levels above you baby
Hug me baby, I'ma
make you love me baby
It's ten years and we
still runnin this motherfucker
[P.
Diddy]
Yeah!
[B.I.G.]
One
[P.
Diddy]
As we procede to give you what you
need!
[B.I.G.]
One...Two!
[P.
Diddy]
It's all fucked up now!
[50
Cent]
Yo!
[P. Diddy]
What the fuck
yaw gonna do now?
[50 Cent]
Yo, we
can't stay alive forever
So if shit hit the
fan then we might as well die together
I'm
high as ever, more holes and more
cheddar
G-Unit move around wit them pounds and
berreta's
Yea faggot, if I want it I'm gon'
have it
Regardless if it's handed to me or I
gotta grab it
Don't make a ass outta yaself
tryin to stop me
I'm cocky, raps rocky, nigga
you sloppy
You know that I'm, 8 levels above
you nigga
I'll club you nigga, I never heard
of you nigga, ugly nigga
I'm the wrong one to
provoke
You rattin on niggas is only gon'
leave you smoke
So the only thing left now is
tools for these cowrads
I got no friends, fuck
most of these cowards
They pop shit 'till we
start approaching these cowards
While we lay
around dollars, they lay around
flowers
[B.I.G.]
In The Commision, you
ask for permission to hit em
He don't like me,
him and wild wifey was wit em
You heard of us,
the murderers, most shady
Been on the low
lately, the feds hate me
The son of *Satan*,
they say my killin's too blatant
You
hesitatin, I'm in your mama crib waitin
Duct
tapin, your fam destiny
Lays in my hands, gat
lays in my waist
Francis, M to the iz-H
phenominal
Gun rest under your vest by the
abdominal
Rhyme a few bars so I can buy a few
cars
And I kick a few flows so I can pimp a
few hoes
Excellence is my presence, never
tense
Never hesitant, leave a nigga bent real
quick
Real sick, brawl nights, I perform like
Mike
Anyone -- Tyson, Jordan,
Jackson
Action, pack guns, ridiculous
And
I'm, quick to bust, if my ends you touch
Kids
or girl you touch, in this world I clutch
Two
auto-matoes, used to call me fatso
Now you
call me Castro, my rap flows
Militant, y'all
faggots ain't killin shit
Ooops Cristal keep
spillin shit, you overdid it homes
You in the
danger zone, you shouldn't be alone
Hold hands
and say it like me
The most shady, Frankie
baby, fantastic
Graphic, tryin to make dough,
like Jurassic
Park did quick to spark kids who
start shit
See me, only me
The Underboss of
this holocaust
Truly yours, Frank
White
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
We got
the real live shit from front to back
To my
people in the world, where the hell you
at?
Where my soldiers is at? [2X]
Where my
real live my soldiers?
Where my soldiers is
at?
[P. Diddy]
Come on it stay dark for
long
They say its darkest before the
dawn
Cars before the storm
I'm happy makes
a bethus now preaching the song
I can see B.I.
rocking the Sean John yeah right
This is for
life afters like B.I. Frank White
Yo Bad Boy
for life
No matter what the public say we gon
prove
There aint another rapper who could feel
ya shoes
Cuz Biggie Smalls is the
illest
Realest my stones and killas got homes
and villas
Overseas and what was me
Who
found out other MCs been tryin to find ya
route
This illman MC used to be on other
shit
Took home "Life after Death" and then
studied it
Listened to the double disk
Now
they all spit
Frank tell how we
did!
[B.I.G.]
We got the shit, Mac
tight, brass knuckles and flashlights
The
heaers in the two-seaters, with two
midas
Senoritas, kiss rings when you meet
us
P-Diddy run the city, show no pity
I'm
the witty one, Frank's the crook from the
Brook'
Matty broke the neck of your coke
connect
No respect squeeze off til all y'all
diminish
Shootouts for twenty minutes, until
we finish
Venice took the loot, escaped, in
the Coupe
Break bread, with the kiss, Peniro,
sheek loops
Black Rob joined the mob, it ain't
no replacin him
Niggaz step up, we just macin
them
Placin them in funerals, criminals turned
aroused
The Brick City, nobody come off like
P-Diddy
Business rise, I play men
Hide
money on the Island Cayman, y'all just betray
men
You screamin, I position,
competition
Nother day in the life of the
Comission
[Lloyd Banks]
I got a
intergangstress who argue and steams wit
reefer
And who flip when I call a bitch like
she Queen Latifah
Not all the vehicle's is
long enough to stash the streetsweeper
This
shit can get uglier than the Master P
sneaker
We slidin through the ruckus, wit
prada on the chuckus
Soon as spring break ho's
home from college wanna fuck us
I ain't here
to drop knowledge on you suckas
I'll sick
rottweiler's on you fuckas, cops followin to cuff
us
Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta
zeros
When it comes to paper I blow a soul
outta aero
I'ma break before I lay floor
berry
Besides, every rapper ain't a star,
nigga plad ain't burberry
You can't tame
Lloyd, smokin by the big screen
You changin
the channel looks like I'm playin the game
boy
I know to watch botherin ya vision
You
reach and I'll put a dot on ya head like its part
of yo religion
Why party wit a pigeon?
I'm
blowin a 10 cuz Bush handin flyers for a party in
a prison
I'm in the gucci vest wit the green
and red straps
I'm the last rapper to scare
niggas since Craig Mack
Now every morning's a
fast start
And there aint problem gettin
dressed cuz my closet got more aisles than
pathmark
Run, move startin a wave
And leave
wit 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of
eggs
I'm the young pimp pardon my age
I
don't got long hair but if I did she be puttin my
braids
Niggas find what club they at
Take
'em wit us, and run a train on 'em like a subway
mac
Get advances from grey Acura
See these
record labels got most artists gettin fucked like
the gay rappa'
I go the college on the
tour
I'm goin down in history nigga, next to
Wallace and Shakur
I keep ya ammo clean, text
polished in the drawer
Camera's by the hamper
that mine into the floor
By now, you probably
heard of me
Fresh outta surgery, flashy as a
fuck, you gon' have to murder me
Burglary, I'm
leavin wit cha nike's bergendy, White T,
bergendy
You match now, back down
Niggas
love to hate you, but love you when you
disappear
Catch me on the boat wit weed smoke
and official gear
Heavy when I toke, C notes
from different years
Besly in the robe,
re-motes for liftin chairs
You ain't rich, but
we glad to snatch ya
I send cars to crib like
I'm a cab dispatcha
You better off wit ya
stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive
You
ain't gettin nuttin but ya french fries
supersized
It's a damn shame y'all still
local
I'm in a million dollar studio layin my
vocals
Nigga
[Chorus (x3): Busta
Rhymes]
We got the real live shit from
front to back
To my people in the world, where
the hell you at?
Where my soldiers is at?
[2X]
Where my real live my soldiers?
Where
my soldiers is at?
[Busta Rhymes]
Whe
got the real live shit!
What yaw niggas
wanna do?
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