| We bogus bogus and mafia!
|
| Say what?
|
| Stand tall when this shit jump off
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| Better back back down
|
| Got a wild wolf pack attack
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| We’ll body snatch em, crack em
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| Detach and smack em
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| Run from the gun finna have you some
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| Spin em around ready to drown em
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| Missin arm leg leg arm head they found em stankin
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| 'cause he wasn’t ready for the wild gankin
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| Blindfold execution style
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| Certified straight lunatic bucked
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| Cook County bounty rowdy better be audi
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| Bangers fulla anger, step into my chamber
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| Oh I’m finna hang ya, rodeo ranglers
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| Ride, east coast west coast
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| In the middle, down south, 2 bogus
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| Hypnotized Minds with the Conflict bumpin
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| Your trunk and we steady dumpin
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| It’s a motherfuckin stick up
|
| Giddy your shit up
|
| Three 6 finna tear the motherfuckin club up
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| Crucial Conflict, click I roll with
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| Better get a bitch, war and straight gun up
|
| Gimme that money, ain’t shit funny
|
| Fuckin with a motherfuckin nigga from down south
|
| Nigga think I’m ?tray? |
| hoe I ain’t ?tray?
|
| Find this gun in your motherfuckin mouth, test me baby
|
| If you think I’m playin, proof test me baby
|
| If you know what I’m sayin
|
| Got a couple motherfuckin niggas over here prayin
|
| Got a couple motherfuckin niggas over here layin
|
| Face down in the ground hopin dead they live
|
| You ain’t Mafia, you don’t know the deal
|
| Representin Memphis to the fullest and I got my gat
|
| But it ain’t where you from it’s where you at
|
| I’m in the golden, nigga
|
| Well if your city’s hardest
|
| Man have you seen the lives I feel that I have lived before
|
| Paid to do my same life
|
| Hopin I don’t get dropped bogus for nothin I do
|
| Smoke Hay like them playas back in the 50's, it’s a new
|
| We in the cell too
|
| We could get clink claks and thousand suits
|
| Lizard boots, a ring or two
|
| How you move to the blue, how you call us crew
|
| Fool, be cool what’s cool, you snooze you lose
|
| Me and my down south niggas rule
|
| Fuck the other nigga, we pay dues too
|
| This goes out to all my niggas
|
| Flippin cheese and countin figures
|
| Put your boy up in the picture
|
| Knowin I wanna be down with ya
|
| Memphis niggas, Chi-Town niggas
|
| Clicked up like notorious killas
|
| Never focused, always bogus
|
| Blunts and guns is all we totin
|
| Constantly rollin, constantly rollin
|
| Tight on white but weed I’m smokin
|
| Every corner playas postin
|
| Eyes are red from dope we chokin
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| All your hoes they blowin kisses
|
| Pay attention to our pimpin
|
| Flict, Nino, and the Juice
|
| We tear the club up thugs and bitches
|
| Bone solid! |
| 'cause papa was a rolling stone
|
| Gotta get em on and it’s on but in the terror zone
|
| Havin visions of glistens my posse ridin
|
| Dippin in my stridin
|
| Never slippin, just slidin, canivin
|
| Bogus bogus nigga hopeful
|
| Got that mossberg
|
| Send the word, Kilo
|
| Not because the mac spittin potent dope
|
| And this overdose, comatose
|
| We gon rush and drain your mind
|
| It’s a Conflict in the ghetto
|
| And we livin in crucial times
|
| Scarecrow is frozen, not frozen and cold
|
| We the cold terrorists, we have entered this city Chicago
|
| Cruical the Conflict the Memphis streets is
|
| Now you niggas know you can’t break (…)
|
| I’ma let this mob take off
|
| Won’t stop until I knock it off
|
| The left fill it up till it wet and erupt
|
| Erupt like muggin my type busta
|
| Come get up in the middle of an inner city riddle
|
| Wanna fill a figure up, and not just a little
|
| Feel my force, of course you’re hoarse
|
| From the rusty point of Scarecrow’s sickle
|
| Stabbin up through the? |
| vouches?
|
| Lord Infamous shock absorbin
|
| I’m squishin like project roaches
|
| 'cause we be the niggas 2 bogus 2 bogus
|
| Smile for the bullhorn the alarm to run
|
| Gun got me so gone hit em son
|
| We the number one young gun
|
| Hold em up or fold em up son no love for none
|
| Run up and get done punk
|
| Hit em up jump straight bucked
|
| When it dump it come bullet’ll thump ya junk
|
| It’s on fool pull the wrong move
|
| And soon lose ya like Lucifer
|
| In the middle make a fool of ya
|
| Ruin ya nigga choose and get abused ya crushed
|
| Huh? |
| Where ya nuts son?
|
| I got Chicago straight Chicago
|
| 98 shit figured up on John Doe
|
| In the roll no flow peepin at all
|
| Close to coast close to crawl
|
| Bump em all, put em in shock
|
| 'cause ya can’t walk or walk
|
| If ya know who the boss, pack it up
|
| Ya lost, say what?
|
| (till fade) |