album cover
artist
Prodigy
H.N.I.C
5,266
Hip-Hop/Rap
H.N.I.C was released on November 14, 2000 by Infamous Records as a part of the album H.N.I.C.
album cover
AlbumH.N.I.C.
Release DateNovember 14, 2000
LabelInfamous Records
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM84

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Prodigy
Prodigy
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Albert Johnson
Albert Johnson
Composer, Lyrics
Lamont Porter
Lamont Porter
Composer, Lyrics
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
EZ-Elpee for EZ-Elpee Music, Inc
EZ-Elpee for EZ-Elpee Music, Inc
Producer
Sheldon Guide
Sheldon Guide
Editing Engineer
Nino Cacacabala
Nino Cacacabala
Assistant Engineer
Steve Sola for Plain Truth
Steve Sola for Plain Truth
Recording Engineer, Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Yo, it gets no better than this
This the hottest shit on the street
It move units like Shania Twain on a Mobb beat
The solar system stands still, the gods listen
When I speak, the world pay attention
It's capital P, **** rather hang up
Y'all **** know my handle, talkin' like a straight thug
Done, I catch you while you shoppin' for kicks
Surprise bitch, shootouts is spontaneous
And oh, from now on call me Columbo
'Cause I come through wrinkled up, think I give a fuck?
Look at my chain, look at my anklet
But are you listenin' to the words, man? My shit bang, kid
****, I run this shit
I set the trends, you get the dick, that's basically it
These rap **** think I'm talkin' 'bout them
**** please, you ain't in my league, just follow my lead
I be the H-N-I-C, the head **** in charge
The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
The M-O-B-B, the status, we large
The guns, the drama, the love, the mob
The H-N-I-C, the head **** in charge
The guns, the drama, the love, the mob
The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
The M-O-B-B, the status, we large
And moreover, me and my dogs enjoy this
Pop bottles, celebrate your death, blow a kiss
At your widow bitch, wish pain on your kids
Piss on your casket, kick your tombstone and shit, dog
And I ain't even that foul type of dude
But all's fair in love and war, it's what your hand call for
Now your mans wanna ride for your cause
Well fuck it, they can get it too, simple as you
And I'll be goddamn if they put they hands on me
Money brings power and puts guns in parties
Sends **** on Amtrak with those for your body
And pay for thirty plane tickets if we got beef
Huh, hardly, you don't know what that is
I grew up in the hoods and the projects
With dope fiends and crackheads
Teenage killers with MAC-10s
Best friends cut each other's throat and twist they own fam backwards
Made it out alive, now I'm on some rap shit
Albums sold out, keeps me far from the big house
The handguns from that bigger house
'Cause ain't nobody cuttin' for me
So I'm forced to hold it down like
The H-N-I-C, the head **** in charge
The guns, the drama, the love, the mob
The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
The M-O-B-B, the status, we large
The H-N-I-C, the head **** in charge
The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
The M-O-B-B, the status, we large
The guns, the drama, the love, the mob
Written by: Albert Johnson, Lamont Porter

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