[Lyric] Recipe for Murder (Prodigy of Mobb Deep)

[Verse 1]
Yeahhh
When it comes to beef, nigga I'm a five star chef
Look it's rules to this shit, I wrote me a cookbook
You can't stand the heat Hell up out the kitchen
For that ass get burnt or my fire start spitting
First off, every customer is different
You gotta cater to their needs and give them what they wishing for
For example someone act all wild
Then you microwave they shit and serve 'em right now
No time to think, fuck consequences
Just beef served up with the blood still drippin'
Keep the ingredients secret and kill anybody who peeped it
Alright now, Then you got custy's who calmly waiting
You got to marinate their shit and premeditate it
No need to rush just season them up
Put the flame on low and let them simmer real slow
Get them real comfortable, just chill
Then you serve 'em they last meal
Fillet Mignon, well done, was it soft motherfucker now you stiffed 'em they up
On special occasions I do delivery, but mostly I let them come to me
Cause I ain't going on my way chasin' down nobody, I got a bussines to run
But if I have to I'll be knocking on your door like the pizzaboy
Well hot deff on a platter, like seek and destroy

Chorus:
Recipe for Murder (16x)

Verse 2:
It only take a teaspoon full of heart to squeeze on a burner
And a cup full of karma sense to get a way with murder
(??)I'll do rats like the chainsaw burns like poppeye's (??)
I stuff your chicken while you gagged and tied

Make you watch and cry while I feed her that beef
Little to your knowledge she set up the whole thing
That's my baby, my little bit of sugar, I use her to rock on the sleep
Make them think shit sweet
Yeah they call me the iron cheff, I put the iron to your head
Remove all the wrinkels from your screwface betted in
Botox the bolax, I push in another clip and I keep bustin shots

Try to run get your wings fried, cook your insides with these copper top big boys out the .45
Tell you grace for you dig in your own grave get in
My customer service number one in the business
That boy done stick a fork in him
Corners bring them doggybags too I'm finished
Bring them scraps to the mall, it's usually none lead
Every plate is scraped and food get ate

You fealing tired?
Yeah, that's that ice kicking in, when I put them niggas on that lead diet
This is, food for thought get your fucking jaw wider
Use a glutine for paint, I feed you to the lions
Chorus