I see them, they run (haha) They don't wanna see us Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin ta be us How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job We millionaires, killin ain't fair but somebody gotta do it Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna fuck with us? You little young ass motherfuckers Don't one of you niggaz got sickle cell or somethin? You fuckin with me nigga you fuck around and have a seizure or a heart-attack You better back the fuck up, fore you get smacked the fuck up Tha's how we do it on our side Any of you niggaz from New York that wanna bring it, bring it But we ain't singin, we bringin drama Fuck you and your motherfuckin mama We gonna kill all you motherfuckers Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie Then everybody had to open their mouth for the motherfucker opinion Well this how we gonna do dis Fuck Mobb Deep Fuck Biggie Fuck Bad Boy as a staff record, record label and as a motherfuckin crew
erection. I had a nightmare vision in my head of what I must look like. And I was late getting back to work. "Christ." He shoved both hands through his hair. "It's the middle of the fucking day. In my goddamn fucking office!" I got to my feet and tried to straighten my appearance. "Here." He came to me, yanking my skirt up again. Furious at what I'd almost let happen when I should be at work, I smacked at his hands. "Stop it. Leave me alone." "Shut up, Eva," he said grimly, catching the hem of my black silk blouse and tugging it into place, adjusting it so that the buttons once again formed a straight row between my breasts. Then he pulled down my skirt, smoothing it with calm, expert hands. "Fix your ponytail." Cross retrieved his coat, shrugging into it before adjusting his tie. We reached the door at the same time and when I crouched to fetch my purse, he lowered with me.
past my face. "Ew." Snow. There went my good day. He looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?" "No. That means it's too cold for rain." Obviously. "Besides, I thought it was supposed to come down in flakes -- you know, each one unique and all that. These just look like the ends of Q-tips." "Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" he asked incredulously. "Sure I have." I paused. "On TV." Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us -- in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike appatently had the same notion. He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush. "I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Once people start throwing wet stuff, I go inside." He just nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure.
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