Hurt

Verse 1: ( Prodigy )

I'll noose ya'll, and push ya'll off the edge
I'm like Ray Benzino 'cause how I hang men
I got a big caliber gun inside of my Timb
so I can explode on any mothafka that grin
trust me, it's not like that, it's not what you thought
you'll be like "P shot me and bounced in the Porsche"
on some real live Mobb s**t, Columbo, the Cappo
I pop , leave the gun right there, I got gloves
stop from frontin', leave 'em real fked up
I drop thats runnin', shoot 'em in they back dun
coward as* nigg* poppin' all that s**t
and when them things popped out you on some Michael Johnson s**t
fk that, hammer that nigg* to the earth
wanna cross me? you gotta pay that toll first
and I got change for all that million dollar s**t
and these slugs 'll be the only reason be hollarin'.

Chorus (Havoc, P, and Noyd)

Turn this s**t up, pump this s**t up, DJ mothafkas burn this s**t up,
we hurt
Twirl that s**t up, burn that s**t up, don't make me have the Nine spit
up, I gives a fid-uck, I hurt

Verse 2: (Havoc)

I'm tired of tellin' how the fk I feel
you know the steel 'll put them to sleep like Benedryl
these trash as* rappers and they f*gg*t as* friends
talkin' like the girls, walk around like they Men
like ya'll don't get no respect
this is Hav', I die once, ya'll die a Thousand deaths
cowards, you tryin' too hard to be 'bout it
you know them that be fake be the ones to shout it (Holla!)
talkin' this and that, but check
turn around and get robbed in they own projects
might as well be rappin' on stage for them
girls be baggin' you, 'cause you the one feminine
the sound of these guns got 'em shook, it's a rap
you could see the yellow stripe runnin' clear down they back
and let a nigg* find out where you live at
and then blow that mothafkin' piece of s**t off the map.

Verse 3 (Prodigy)

Whattup son, dun, surprise nigg*, thats how we pop up on 'em
you off point you die in your sleep, thats the moral
nigg*, you know we get our contraban in
smokin' that dangerous, you know we got bangers
you know I'm dead real, I don't know what you was thinkin'
I'm all over the street, you better stay creepin'
I shoot fair ones, I'll box you dun
you'll be six feet in that dirt, I'll stop your run.

Chorus