Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fire, artist - Mash Out Posse. Album song Mash out Posse, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 31.12.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fast Life
Song language: English
Fire |
HeheheheheHEHE, geah! |
Get in yo' ass nigga |
Firing Squad huh? |
Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go! |
M dot, O dot, P dot, we got |
Nigga! |
Do, flippa, uh, ohh |
Excuse me, I’m here to earn a mere buck or two |
It’s Bill Diggy niggy, who the fuck are you? |
Nigga where yo' soldiers at? |
Dem vultures you ride with? |
The niggas you coincide with, you don’t wanna collide with |
(M!) Exclude them, they already know the name |
They already know the game, they already know we flame |
It’s tricky, they put 'em in boots |
And camoflauge suits, and they still can’t get wit me |
I’m wicked, look at the way I rip it |
I’m off-balance, I’m mentally challenged, but I’m gifted |
(IT'S ON YOU!) You know how we do |
I’ll get at yo' crew, with a little twenty-two (hahahahaHA!) |
The question is — where the fuck it came from? |
Why the fuck you banged him, and who the fuck untamed him? |
And why can’t they restrain him? |
There’s somethin goin on with this kid |
Look in his eyes, he’s angry and straight spittin |
Yeah! |
Yeah! |
Yeah! |
Nigga |
B-R, O, W-N-S-V, I-L-L-E, motherfucker we spittin |
Hahahahahaha! |
Cobra-ass nigga, NIGGA! |
(Yeah) NIGGA! |
Yo, let’s go! |
I have the mind, of a sick psychiatric |
perish, with my tactic |
Terminate, exhale, I bust brain cells |
I’m international, my name rings bells |
This ain’t the battle of the beach homeboy, this is a war |
Live nigga rap, straight from the Bricks, we got the raw |
Fuck a watered down rapper on your hot five at four |
We live from the crackhouse, push your money through the door |
This is we give a fuck about your rag |
You motherfuckers made New York look bad |
With all you gangsta-ass, Michael, gorillas recognize my M. O |
Or bitch come see me, and Fizzy Wo' |
Nigga sixteen bars’ll get you caught up — this ain’t Mickey D’s |
But fuck around, and I’ll super-size your order |
Pop shit I’m poppin hollows in you niggas 'tinue to serve |
When the Desert burn whoever’s left on the menu |
First Fam', we don’t start wars with you, but my dogs will |
Lock jaw with you, pop pop pop, witchu |
We get love in the cracks of the hood, and they need love |
So we just spit it back to the hood, motherfucker we spittin |
Yeah! |
Yeah! |
Yeah! |
Nigga |
B-R, O, W-N-S-V, I-L-L-E, motherfucker we spittin |
Get yo' ass up, nigga! |
What? |
What? |
What-what-what-what-what, ow, oh, AOWWWWW |
What happened to the M.O. |
(P!) nigga we make history |
You don’t know? |
Then find yo' ass on Unsolved Mystery |
When the gun blow (the gun blow rapidly) |
It’s a twenty-one gun dispute when your troops, come after me |
You gotta be a thorough dude my borough rules, live motivators |
Fuck a driveby, we walk up, look you in yo' eye and dump |
And that’s whassup, so nigga whattup? |
You know we reppin B-R, O, W-N-S-V, I-L-L-E, ho yeah! |
You know the motherfuckin style, my goons is wild |
We turn this whole, motherfucker into the OK Corral |
(So what it’s gon' be bitch?) Nigga look into this |
What a ridiculous, conspicious son of a bitch you is |
We was trainin, count your revolver shots when you pop 'em |
Blam! |
Blam! |
Blam! |
Blam! |
Blam! |
(BUKKA-BUKKA-BU-BUKKA DROP HIM!) We spittin |
Wha, whoo, wha, ha, ha, ha! |
Nigga |
B-R, O, W-N-S-V, I-L-L-E, motherfucker we spittin |
Whoo! |
What, nigga? |
B-R, O, W-N-S-V, I-L-L-E, motherfucker we spittin |
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! |
Ride out nigga |
(It's the way of the world nigga) Yeah! |
Fall up out this bitch |
(Sopranos!) C’mon (Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!) |