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"The Midnight Creep" lyrics by MOBB DEEP
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"The Midnight Creep"


[Intro: Havoc]
Straight gutter!
What the fuck is you on?
These mothafuckas, man!
You think I'm playin'? (aiight!)
This isn't a game! (yup!)
I'm a blow this mothafucka's head off!

[Havoc:]
I give 'em to 'em gutter! (ch'eah!) - Straight gutter!
Ain't no other way to spit it, my nizzy, just fall easy. (fall!)
Niggaz want a peace treaty, wanna bring the calm (calm!)
But when it's on, ain't a thing that can stop the pound. (uh-huh!)
Tear a fella a' ass! (uh-huh!) - A new ass at that. (uh-huh!)
Glad to clap - never that, we had to clap!
Nigga do it to they self, when they force the hand
Make me blast! - How you tryna play me, man?
Like niggaz over here, don't get down for theirs!
I need some man time! Who got the fuckin' jack in here? (who that?)
Where (where?) - ever I leave, my head's my home (riight!)
And if possible - always take my Gat where I roam! (load it!)
These slugs'll take the bass outta niggaz voice quick
But (but!) - once we gangsta, now moist the shit!
Scramble, he hit! - How you like the scenery, bitch?
Keep ya eyes on my hands, fuck who you seein' me with! (seein' me with!)

[Chorus: Havoc]
Yo! - I don't know you. (naaah!) - You don't know me.
Just mind your own bidness, everything'll be sweet! (uh-huh!)
We don't talk over here, we just speak with the heat (that's right!)
You don't wanna see a nigga on that midnight creep.

Yo! - I don't know you. (uh-uh!) - You don't know me. (naaah!)
Just mind your own bidness, everything'll be sweet! (aiiight!)
We don't talk over here, we just speak with the heat [shot]
You don't wanna see a nigga on that midnight creep.

[Twin Gambino:]
And that chains over here, I'm just still bustin' my gun
Still rippin' on your shorties, wildin' out with my dunns.
On the grind, don't do nothing dumb, just hold ya head!
Cause the rest of my soldiers, stressed out in jail
With on bail! - Facing the rest of they life
We got to get it right and keep it tight, and stay on the low.
For them assholes - clockin' our dough! - Love when I flow!
Keep doin' that shit, they gots to go!
Infamous Mobb gots to blow. - Pounds of dro'!
Makin' all the shorties, gettin' down on the floor.
From that "Murda Muzik" shit, that'll make ya flip
And dump a clip! [automatic gunshots] - Then nigga that be talkin' shit!
We think sick! - Check the credits, we get busy
And grimey, and gritty, when we livin' in the city.
It's haters! - Traders! - Fake-ass playas!
Come to QBC, and nobody could save ya!

[Chorus]

[Havoc:]
Of course we keep it gangsta! (aiiight!) - Straight gangsta!
Niggaz know it. - I don't have to prove it, or show it! (nah!)
The gun bark. - And the bite is a mutha! (yeeah!)
A killa! - A playa, lay it down, a four pounder. (right!)
The calm downer - when niggaz act a little too active (uh-huuuh!)
Smack kids - into next week. - Little bastards! (bastards!) (that's right!)
Y'all cats think I'm playin' with this rap shit (rap shit!)
I'm here to take it to the top; you fuckin' faggots! (faggots!)

[Chorus]

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