| Look, I just spent a quarter chicken, now I’m worth a quarter ticket
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| Put a quarter in my baccies, give a quarter to my bitches
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| Ever since a quarter century, I been rakin' up the digits
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| All these dollars out of quarters, I should give a course in vendin'
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| Brought the razorbacks like Arkansas, then Butcher taught me blend it (Whip,
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| whip, whip)
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| Turn a four into a seven, then you hit the block and kill it
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| That’s how I fed my mama and three other lil' siblings (Facts)
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| Not to mention my children, shit, everybody winnin'
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| Took a gamble just to get here, the risk takers gon' get theirs
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| Or I’m gettin' a checkerboard AKA a big square
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| Break it down in fair chances, then we goin' square dancin'
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| From Charlotte back to New York, in Miami like I’m Ant Mason
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| Black Soprano Family with the leverage is impeccable
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| You rappers is unethical, turn niggas to vegetables (Boom, boom, boom, boom,
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| boom)
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| Matter fact, nigga, shoot yourself with it, Plaxico shells (Brrah)
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| Hotter than Mexico, feel it on your chest like a stethoscope (Sopranos)
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| I love the game, I’m from the streets (Streets, nigga)
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| I survived some murder beef, ever since then, I play for keeps (Keeps)
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| I’m shootin' everywhere the laser blink (Brrr)
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| Drums on the .223, shuttin' down the motor on the V
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| So be careful ridin' down them streets (Careful)
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| And, nigga, bring your biggest gun when you think you’re runnin' down on me (On
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| me, nigga)
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| I’m with some niggas that’ll die for me
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| You gotta look me in the eyes when you tell me you gon' ride for me (Mean the
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| shit)
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| It’s time to tell my side of the story (Look)
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| A nigga came off the bench, but I got rings like Robert Horry
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| I made movies, but ain’t record it
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| Spray thirty-something shells, clear the scene before it get recorded (Out of
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| there)
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| Movin' cautious, I can’t afford it
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| Raised by them real trenches, catch a body and you get rewarded (Kill 'em,
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| nigga)
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| Pushin' grams, tryna make a fortune
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| Had a couple bad runs like the Bills when they had Losman
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| I need the Rollie with the bezel frosted (Shh)
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| Havin' triple beam dreams, reminiscin' when I sold frosting
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| Me and my opps like LA and Boston
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| I thought of that one on the plane, on the flight from LA to Boston
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| Sippin' D’USSÉ with the double crossers (Don't cross us, nigga)
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| The way we do you, think it’s voodoo, so be careful 'fore you double cross us
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| You run your mouth, my guns talkin'
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| Place a bounty on your head, now you just a dead man walkin' (Sopranos)
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| Yo, look
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| They told me I’m playin' with fire 'cause I ain’t throw my phone away yet
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| (Phone away yet)
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| I’m in deep, the hustler instinct ain’t go away yet (Still got it)
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| I kept a hammer in the bubble coat, on the east side of Buffalo (Yeah)
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| The forty made me trigger happy, my plug made me comfortable
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| Hit the lot, then I’m coppin', ain’t nothin' to guess 'bout this shit (Nothin')
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| I don’t even know the price, I need to test drive the whip
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| When you was stressed 'bout a bitch, my team was fresh out of bricks (Yeah)
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| Cop it in Miami at the Best West' by the strip (Brr)
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| Your bitch hit my phone, and she don’t want nothin' specific
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| Hoes know I’m ballin' like the US in the Summer Olympics
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| I played the strip 'til the mail came in, Chancel fragrance, Hell raisin'
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| Nigga, my hood full of shell casings from twelve gauges
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| Let’s see who really rivals, if your city really follow (Let's see)
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| I’m in the lab, writin', ashin' in an empty Henny bottle
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| I had a spot in all hoods (All hoods), had my pockets all full (We eatin')
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| 'Til rap made me more political like Pac before Suge
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| This flow got me enemies, I don’t speak to half y’all (Fuck y’all niggas)
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| I got weaker rap squads doin' features half off, yeah (Hahahaha)
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| No cops when I hit the scene, popped up with Rick and Heem
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| Mask, no vest, just a mop like Mr. Clean, ah
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| These are the real Sopranos
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| Big BSF, nigga
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| All my niggas is Capos, nigga
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| We take this Black Soprano shit serious
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| Real shit
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| Shoutout my nigga City Boy
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| My nigga Rick Hyde, Heem
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| Produced by Shay, you a fool, nigga
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| Ah, 2020 mine, nigga, hahaha
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| Big BSF, Big Griselda in this motherfucker
|
| I had to come clean niggas up, ah |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Da Mob , by - Black Soprano FamilySong from the album Benny the Butcher & DJ Drama Present: The Respected Sopranos, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп