Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mood Music, artist - Akir
Date of issue: 16.07.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Mood Music |
Yeah, uhh |
It’s yours truly Akir, one of the prizes |
Southpaw whattup~! |
We takin over this year man |
Mood Music, yo, yo |
Aiyyo my music for the moodiest sidewalks |
I talk ebonics, smoke chronic, and drink booze tonic |
Until I feel bionic off the hydroponic |
Some niggas never mastered phonics foolish states for how they act around us |
Some people ask about us, I never try to be somethin that ain’t me |
Never plan to be 2Pac, Biggie or Jay-Z |
Even though they lives are amazing |
To share they occupation never want the fans all dazed and |
If I was shoppin at, Macy’s, want to have a wife and babies |
Supportin 'em from endeavors that consistantly pay me |
Real estate investments and a big Mercedes maybe |
Somethin, a little shady, not too Johnny-Come-Lately saved me |
As I come in when I breeze you as you can’t rotate me |
Or a autographed picture of a mixtape ease |
Into things only to show and prove for kings of rings |
When I get I handle my business live it like a king |
So bling bling ain’t a thing to be braggin |
Niggas with things steam for a chance at your baggage |
Not to be cling cling to a cop that he raggin |
Or locked in Sing-Sing for somethin that just happened |
I’d rather hold you captive like a pirate ship captain |
Plus a nice package so I’m goin ghetto platinum |
Niggas know I’m stackin but I’m passin out ratchets |
Tryin to span the classes like elastic with my classics |
«I subdue the microphone and left in in submission» — Mic Geronimo |
«I'm on my team, my hustle and my grind you know?» |
«Cause I’m a money getter» — Big L, «Enterprisin, advisin» — Fat Joe |
«Set the microphone on fire» — Inspectah Deck |
«I subdue the microphone and left in in submission» |
«Gassed 'til they witness me, known for my imagery» |
«Cause I’m a money getter», «Enterprisin, advisin» |
«Leave me in the deck too long, I blow up your box» — Royce Da 5'9″ |
Yo, yo, aiyyo they ask me how I’m doin with the music |
Enthused I’m turnin down development deals |
It confuse minds, a new find, the kid intoxicatin like moonshine |
Cinematic dramatic reactions with my line |
Pictures of an eye shot, away from a nine Glock |
From his sly pops to his son in a pine box |
Watch his soul escape out his eyes while the spy rocks |
Never saw it comin like I run into your crime spot |
Direct reportin live from the block where crime’s hot |
It is I Ak', here to flow and just love it |
You chick jock my dick in public, hit the show uncovered |
My music so you dub it, all type of people love it |
So my style is hard to fuck with, cousin |
Got the street buzzin all type of budget budge in |
Not part of my thuggin against the current, gummin |
Yo you must be buggin beats bangin 'til your brain gets bludgeoned |
It’s nothin, write until my fingertips sunk in |
Seven years in the makin don’t fake all of a sudden |
Got my niggas in the back if you just see me frontin |
Still humpin like an X-rated old time function |
— with ad libs |
First things first, I never try to be like Nas |
See I’m my own man, respect to that nigga though pah |
It’s the same thing they used to do to him and Ra' |
Take it as a compliment and nod as I hit the top |
Thinkin I would stop like the blinkin lights on the top |
Of a cop car, undercover brother, son of a bad mother- |
-fucker hittin the curbs, utter these words |
Ridiculous, for my chicks, in the thick of it |
Niggas in the sticks and shit, convicts on they long shifts |
In a tight predicament, kids takin bong hits |
Typin on the internet, entertainment introspect |
A little pain while bangin sex, is the closest I can get |
To describin into vibe of this, while I’m scribin hits |
I think about those survivin in these wild environments |
Perspirin, tired still hopin that they hirin |
How can I get mad at niggas bootleg piratin? |
But if you like it and you find it again, bring a friend |
And make amends when y’all niggas both drop ten |
Why pretend like I’m on when I ain’t I still hustle for cash money |
Family’s gas money in the tank, while I |
Shit, prices are high, off of seven-two |
Pretend you and your man got five, whattup pop? |
You gon' buy? |
Shit cause here comes 5, I gotta dodge |
Tryin to eat and stay alive, I’m tryin to deal with these fines |
— 2X with ad libs |