“Never Let Em Know Your Next Move Lyrics” sung by The Notorious B.I.G. represents the English Music Ensemble. The name of the song is Ten Crack Commandments.
Never Let Em Know Your Next Move Lyrics
[Chuck D] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
[Intro] It’s the ten crack commandments, what? N^^ga can’t tell me nothing about this coke Can’t tell me nothing about this crack, this weed, for my hustlin’ n^^gas N^^gas on the corner I ain’t forget you n^^gas, my triple beam n^^gas
[Verse] I’ve been in this game for years, it made me a animal There’s rules to this s^^t, I wrote me a manual A step-by-step booklet for you to get Your game on track, not your wig pushed back Rule Nombre Uno: never let no one know How much dough you hold ’cause you know The cheddar breed jealousy ‘specially If that man f^^ked up, get yo’ a^^ stuck up Number Two: never let ’em know your next move Don’t you know bad boys move in silence and violence? Take it from your highness (Uh-huh) I done squeezed mad clips at these cats for they bricks and chips Number Three: never trust nobody Your moms’ll set that a^^ up, properly gassed up Hoodied and masked up, s^^t, for that fast buck She be laying in the bushes to light that a^^ up Number Four: I know you heard this before “Never get high on your own supply” Number Five: never sell no crack where you rest at I don’t care if they want an ounce, tell ’em, “Bounce!” Number Six: that godd^^n credit? Dead it You think a crackhead paying you back? S^^t, forget it Seven: this rule is so underrated Keep your family and business completely separated Money and blood don’t mix like two d^^ks and no b^^ch Find yourself in serious s^^t Number Eight: never keep no weight on you Them cats that squeeze your guns can hold jums too Number Nine shoulda been Number One to me: If you ain’t gettin’ bagged, stay the f^^k from police If n^^gas think you snitchin’, they ain’t tryna listen They be sittin’ in your kitchen, waiting to start hittin’ Number Ten: a strong word called ‘consignment’ Strictly for live men, not for freshmen If you ain’t got the clientele, say, “Hell no!” ‘Cause they gon’ want they money rain, sleet, hail, snow Follow these rules you’ll have mad bread to break up If not, twenty-four years on the wake up Slug hit your temple, watch your frame shake up Caretaker did your makeup, when you passed Your girl f^^ked my man Jake up Heard in three weeks, she sniffed a whole half a cake up Heard she s^^k a good d^^k, and can hook a steak up Gotta go, gotta go, more pies to bake up, word up (Uh)