G.O.D. Pt. III

[Intro]
Some of that 151, son (Yeah, some of that bogus, no doubt)
(What you got in the trunk?)
Aight
Ayo, son, yo, yo, you think that motherfuckin' nigga's out there right now, son?
(Word, what he doin' out here?)
Son, we got drama with that nigga, he tried to fuckin' front last week
What, that cat out there? Yo, I seen that nigga earlier, know what I'm sayin'?
Nah, fuck that, go, go open the window real quick, son
Open that fuckin' window
(You gonna take him from the window, nigga?)
Yo, hold up
That's that nigga right there, son? Right next to the basketball court?
(Yeah yeah, that's the one)
Oh shit, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, turn the lights out
(That's him too, son, that's him too)
(Back up, back up, they lookin')
Ayo, son, I'ma hit that nigga right now, son
Word to mom, I'ma hit him out the window, son
(Yo, you buggin', son)
Nah, chill, son, fuck that
I'ma hit that nigga right out the motherfuckin' window, hold up
(Go 'head, son, go 'head, man)
Nah, fuck that, I'ma hit this nigga out the window, son (Go 'head, man)
Chill, chill, chill, chill, chill, don't blow it up, duck down, son
(Here, let me do it, man, let me do it, go 'head)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, nigga, yeah, yeah
Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme
Fucker (What?)

[Chorus]
Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink
Drama we bring, yeah, that's a small thing
G.O.D. Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Yo, we heavy on the wrist, my ice rink
Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing

[Verse 1: Prodigy]
Alright now, pay attention to the crime rhyme Houdini P
Keeping you niggas in perspective
Mobb representative, call me the specialist
Professional, professor at this rap science
Up in the laboratory, that's why your small rhyme bore me
Your store-bought rap ain't shit, my category
Is that of an insane man who strike back (What?)
I draw first blood, it's over with and that's that
You wanna square off, I'm sayin', "Slice that cat"
You get splashed from back of your head to asscrack
Searching for signs of the end, well, I am that
Which bring apocalypse to this game called rap
Not a game, but quite serious and yo, in fact
You'll be running for dear life, so far you might fall off the map
Fuckin' with P, you need the gat
At least you had a opportunity to bust back
Fresh out the motherfuckin' pack, a rare world premiere
Shook individuals bounce in blind fear
Scared-to-death niggas fall to they worst fear
Horror tales in Braille for vision-impaired
You lookin' for P, well, you can find him everywhere
In a project near you, I'll be right there
I was brought up and taught to have no fear (Now)
Live wire niggas, they behind me in the rear (Now)
Cowardly hearts, step aside, stand clear (Clear)
My bloodthirsty niggas got they eyes on you (You)
QBC, lime Bacardi, Godfather Pt. III
On some hashish, the Embassy Suite, crash your party

[Chorus]
Yo, it's the G.O.D. Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink
Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing
It's the G.O.D. Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink
Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing

[Verse 2: Havoc]
Yeah, yo, lime Bacardi, gettin' bent, crash the party
Handle B-I, bringin' it to anybody
Physical damage, crowd control, handle cannons
Hittin' you with, leavin' your bloodstream contamined
While you acting out of character, we observin'
Grillin' 'em down so hard, I know he felt it coming at hm
Hennessy raps, we like the Phantom
Running you up out of the spot in which you standin'
Never second-guess a cat who hold gat
Concealed, but easily revealed if that's
Body casting raps to get your back snapped in half and severed
Impossible pain beyond measure
Shiesty living brought him to his last prayer (Prayer)
Life changed around quick with one stare (Stare)
Face full of fear, conquering your ice grill (Grill)
Drowsiness, put him to sleep like NyQuil (NyQuil)
Given a overdose of this rap potent
Potentially dangerous, fatally left open
For the vultures, scavengers, that's EMS
Funeral homes anticipating your death
That's the dead truth, check in the morgue, you'll find proof
Enough to make you think and stop before your ship sink
To the bottom, like Albolene, the Mobb'll spot him
You know the routine, face up before I shot him

[Chorus]
'Cause it's the G.O.D. Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink
Drama we bring, yeah, that's a small thing
G.O.D. Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink
Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing
It's the G.O. Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink
Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing
G.O.D. Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice rink
Drama we bring, yo, that's a small thing

[Outro]
What?
Uh (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
G.O.D. Father Pt. III, nigga