Lyrics: Mobb Deep. Juvenile Hell. Flavor For The Non Believes.

Yo, this is flavor for the non believes
Sit back, take a seat and don't forget to pass the weed
And by the way, this is all the way live
And the way that I survive is pumpin' nickels and dimes

Pumpin' rocks on the corner, pumpin' rocks 'cause I wanna
The little Don Ho drug dealer [Incomprehensible] performer
At my height, I'm described as a midget
But it ain't about height, it's about, "Can I kick it?"

Some say I'm too little, but yo I'm too ill
I hit skins, light up and then I smoke a Phil'
You don't want a beef with this juvenile delinquent
I'm not good, I'm livin' like a hood

And when I kick MC's abandon ship
'Cause my brain is the sun of a solar eclipse
Yo, Havoc is the man that you have to bring
'Cause I'm flippin' like pages in a Word Up magazine

Sweet like candy, the poetic vigilante
So explicit, even porno flicks ban me
And girls gel me like jheri curl activate
The forty dog drinkin' money

Grip, you're dead and stinkin'
Brain cells overload when I'm thinkin'
This is a rap rape and I leave a fat taste
Get off the microphone kid, stay in a child's place

I cook you up, like Uptown raw base
And leave you open like if you just saw Scarface
Like I said it before, shorty scores, I get raw
For the cause, battle me, take a loss

I steal shows like Bel Biv Devoe's
And put on my latex when I hit up the hoes
You know the flavor kid, give me my props
'Cause it's 1992 and all the bullshit stops

Check it, this is flavor for the non believes
This is flavor for the non believes
Check it, this is flavor for the non believes
This is flavor for the non believes

Mr. Soul, trunk jewels sippin' old gold
Roll up my nickel, pack of weed, lick it up and stroll
Prodigy, verbally tragic and I'm toxic
Check out the way, check out the way, the way that I drop it

You know my style, step back 'cause I'm buck wild
All it takes is a mic, 40 dog and a smile
Baby Grand Puba, Little Rick, the ruler
And in my pocket is crazy fat bag of Buddha

MC's can't get with Mister Mister
Money don't fake moves 'cause I probably hit your sister
I'm on a mission, word is bond
Word to God, I goes on, the little Don

Smooth and fantastic as I get drastic
Shake your brain mentally and psychopathic
I murder with the brain of Hitler black
And me bein' weak, even Kodak couldn't picture that

This is flavor for the
This is flavor for the non believes
Flavor for the non believes
This is flavor for the non believes
This is flavor for the non believes

Niggaz don't understand first of all
I rip when I rip check it, never stall
Freestyle meanwhile for you and yours
I'm goin' all out, check it

You thought I couldn't wish I wanna do what I did
I did it so I done, kill another fuckin' kid
'Cause I don't give a motherfuck and you do
That's why your stupid ass got bucked outta luck

Never took the time to wish
Took a bitch down then I'm out like quick
Nestle chocolate, munch like it's [Incomprehensible]
That was then, this is now, I'm goin' for the gold

Thirty yard touchdown, Mr. Short
Fuckin' niggaz bitches just for the sport
But not without the jimmy 'cause bitches
Nowadays knows mad jig tricks and that I ain't with

Oh shit, time to move, time to move, here we go
With another fly groove, 'cause I'm so smooth
Never like to brag but I do it still
Sip on a 40, smoke on the Phil'

So next time kid, you wanna beef just chill
Before I break your ass up to bits
How many licks would it take?
Check it out, one, two, three bitch-ass nigga licks

This is flavor for the non believes
This is flavor for the non believes
This is flavor for the non believes
This is flavor for the non believes