| Swoop G
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| You can’t stop me, baby
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| Mobb shit
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| You can’t stop us, baby. |
| (x2)
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| Verse 1 *(Keek The Sneek)*
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| I put that on the… Mobb
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| My here comes the warrior
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| Heat from nailin him, yellin out the window when I’m bailin
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| What you sellin?
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| I need some zags, I’m ready to get keyed
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| Juss a phase
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| If niggas go snag a zag, then we go snatch a sack of green
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| Step back and let the heat go attack 'em, so we can see
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| Cuz picture my faulty face, fill it up wit drank an clear the space
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| Sicker than Waco
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| So wicked yo dick will scratch an lay low
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| My folks get deep in yo dome plus roll up yo face an I say so
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| Leave 'em dangled, severed an strangled
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| I put that on the Mobb an my Mobbin niggas will lay low
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| Verse 2 *(Knuckle Head)*
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| They tryin to mug a nigga
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| Tryin to put slugs on a nigga
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| But I’m lettin a nigga have it, catch this silly rabbit
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| What the fuck!!!
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| Whoooo got dropped?
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| What the fuck!!!
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| Yoooou got shot
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| I keep my gun on safety
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| Cuz niggas hate me
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| Gotta retally me, yet they can’t penitrate me
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| Or fade me
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| Got shot two times, bullets grazed me
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| Lable me a mental Knuckle Head, bitch I’m crazy
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| The Mobb slangs z’s like Scarface on keys
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| Rollin Lexo’s an Benzo’s sittin on Gold D’s
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| Verse 3 *(Numskull)*
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| I put that on the Mobb
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| Slob, or no pussy, I rock pussies
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| An after I fuck, I consider the clitoris my pussy
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| So do the do bitch, I figure that Knuckle Head an Dru spit
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| (Who you speakin on nigga!!!)
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| You bitch
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| It’s Swoop’s shit
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| Day by day the blunt walk
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| Hamps, chron-chron, Hindu an drunk talk
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| I be the wall behind the heater
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| Call me yo leader
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| Makin niggas go old school like Dan Sever
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| Makin Num, Num inbetween 'em ain’t no thang
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| Dick on hang, slang mo pussy then sunsets on one set can’t hang
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| Bang-bang, love me to give me skrilla
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| Hug me to give me lovely, Mobb love killa, killa
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| We Mobb nigga
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| Hooride nigga, we drop niggas
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| You gettin mobbed nigga
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| I put that on the Mobb nigga
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| Verse 4 *(Yukmouth)*
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| Uh, nigga any bottle drunken
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| X-O swallowed, pumpkin
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| Head gettin
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| Lead spittin an I’m hittin blunts an
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| The chefs hittin, on dubb members
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| My nigga Num, S-S mean mug niggas, ex-drug deala niggas
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| Who love hittaz (Drink-A-Lot)
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| He be the licksta
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| (Smoke-A-Lot) he be the the twista
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| Like the movies, sock it to me
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| Like Rudy Ray Mode, or human tornado
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| Nigga I’m groovy
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| Break niggas wit the Hong-Kong fuey, plus light niggas up wit the uzi
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| I put that on the… paraphanali
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| I’m a keep the Cristally in my belly
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| I touch mo bread then jelly
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| One snap like Fonzarelli, make a bitch sell me
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| Pussy until it gets smelly, an then I’m finished
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| Verse 5 *(Bart)*
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| Got my pistol gripped tightly
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| Make you do the right thang like Spike Lee
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| Despite the
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| Niggas who be takin the M.O.B. |
| lightly
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| It might be
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| Another case of name loss
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| Cuz game cost, for the nigga that stole my butter I’m a show you off
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| He coughed
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| I opened them lungs like Primetine Mist
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| Fuck wit a
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| Forehead splitter, wit a clenched fist
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| Dismissed
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| Off the face of the planet
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| Sank like Titanic
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| Boy don’t panic, I’m juss a Sickaluffa skitzofrentic
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| Fuckin bitches that be jockin Oakland game
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| I ran it, never leave empty handed
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| An the hataz can’t stand it
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| But can’t stop it either
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| Behind a 9 millimeter
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| I put that on the Mobb you’ll be left on a machine greeter
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| Verse 6 *(Ager Man)*
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| Niggas wanna get they test on
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| Better have they vest on
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| Packin a clip full of teflon
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| Leavin you niggas stepped on
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| Fucked around an got crept on
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| Slippin in his 'Stang
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| Talkin bad about 3 Times, I had to do my thang
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| Mobb shit, wit a pistol grip
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| 30 officers hit, wit a clip
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| When you get stuck on yo door wit a $ 150 dolla kicks
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| An slappin that ass juss like a bitch
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| Nigga fuckin wit niggas, don’t ya know
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| You best believe you fuckin wit soldiers
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| That’ll chop that ass up, roll in the cut like A-1 Yola
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| A-G mutha fuckin E
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| Got a Glock an a 3−50
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| Niggas better hope like Bob
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| That they don’t get robbed
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| Fuckin wit the Mobb nigga
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| Hold up nigga… Fuck all you niggas that ain’t wit this Mobb shit. |
| You
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| Wit us or against us. |
| Success is the best revenge
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| Verse 7 *(Swoop G)*
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| The Mobb game got us niggas brain hangin like wall paper |
| You shouldn’t have ran yo mouth about the Mobb at all playa
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| All spraya
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| Able to rip shit
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| An still Eclipse spit, guess our heataz start to come in triplets
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| The Oakland edition, where we was raised
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| An rolls mutha fuckaz up off the turf that didn’t belong
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| One phone call, to my roll dog
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| I have a roll call to finish
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| Niggas brought paraphanalia comin to get ya
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| They proper position
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| To chop 'em wit street sweepers an Glocks
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| Selection wit heataz, an sections to hectic to stop
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| Like mad caulkin, an bad cops
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| An all this shit that can get yo ass popped
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| Or get yo ass shot
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| I put that on
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| Niggas I rob wit in Eastside California
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| Pullin up an puttin the pistol on ya
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| Verse 8 *(Cydal)*
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| Paraphanalia to the Mobb
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| We treat yo face like pussy, fuck yo head
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| Why did the world distort, potnaz deadly, warfares
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| This 'sidal life has got me strapped an sayin, more prayers
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| Been down on one knee, hopin that when the killa comes that he don’t gun
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| Me
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| Life is money
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| Mind over matter until the death nigga
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| Fo life
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| I had that P.M.O.B. |
| written across my chest
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| I guess
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| The mental mandatory got me cleanin up blocks
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| For shitty niggas like I’m in the janitorial business
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| After droppin a dime niggas will Mobb, many an all
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| When the bullet flys many will fall
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| Til I die paraphanalia verse 'em all
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| T Luni the first to call
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| I bet, as applied hearse an casket fo 'em all
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| As we Mobb nigga |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Tha M.O.B, artist - Luniz. Album song The Lost Tapes, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп