| You got me fucked up, we shoot guns and hit targets
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| Meat market, chop haters up who start shit
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| M.J.G., rippin holes in body gaurds
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| Outta line, polices and boys who think they body hard
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| And when the party started, I thought we was all chillin
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| I figured that everybody be leavin here all livin
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| You standin to close partna, you askin too much baby
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| You need to get way from round me, before our clique goin crazy
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| They ma-ny niggaz come round, talkin bout
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| They hot, but they not, fuckin with fat boy and MJ
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| Nigga we the truth, holla at a playa man
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| Streets are the booth, we poppin at you hatas man
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| Soft ass niggaz make they chin hit the floor
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| Off bran niggaz take they cheese and they hoe
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| Mafio (mafio), Niggaz know (niggaz know)
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| When them real live g’s hit the door (hit the door)
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| I got a 22, not much bigger than my finger
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| A winchester pistol grip pump thats a head ringer
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| A two shot derringer, not little millinater
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| A big 40 glock, just call me the gun slanger
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| Some AK spray to kill the front line
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| One houndred and thirty dead from squeezin off one time
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| All you muthafuckin niggaz, that yappin that fly lip
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| Let it rip, don’t slip, I’m workin with fly clips
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| We fifty deep and every nigga with me got they ice on Look, niggaz gottta brake your face like Roy Jones
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| Crush your bones when its on, we ain’t never scared
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| Them Memphis boys, we so serious when its bout that bread
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| Kidnap family members, them niggaz don’t leave no witness
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| They all love a gangsta, that shit be so addictive
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| When we pull up, they know who we are by the car
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| We blowin big, and you know Diddy he gonna buy the bar
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| Take your vest off, I’m blowin your neck off and eyes out
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| High speed chase, I’ll follow you to your hideout
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| Shoot your fuckin tires out, don’t try to ride now
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| What happend to the bass in your voice, you just cryin now
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| Thought you was a man, you starting to look fine now
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| The grim reaper been lookin for ya, and boy its time now
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| And blow the roll, shit out the right side of your head man
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| Aint no way for retaliation when yous’a dead man
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| Not a scared man, we keep it, out the frame
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| We stayin away from lames, and run the whole game
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| I do it like G, you aint, fuckin with me Eightball, MJG, we reppin for Tennesee
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| With murder and homicide, and daily, niggaz die
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| And daily, niggaz ride, it don’t mean with we you wise
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| Money, and the power, the weak, they get devoured
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| Them boys that disrespect, with bullets they get showered |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Don't Make , by - 8Ball & MJG. Song from the album Living Legends, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп