Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Stress Y'all, artist - Mash Out Posse.
Date of issue: 07.06.2004
Song language: English
Stress Y'all |
Don’t let these motherfuckers stress y’all |
M.O.P. |
to the death y’all, the good Lord have blessed y’all |
So these niggas can’t touch y’all |
FIRING SQUAD! |
Yes yes y’all |
Good evening, you contaminated semen |
I’m here for a different reason (continue breathin) |
I notice you been schemin, on the First Family |
(Family) Disbelieving we’re |
(forever rockin) yeah (forever hip-hopping and popping) |
Yes yes y’all! |
I’m not a rapper, I never made a rap song |
You motherfuckers got it all wrong! |
I’m a man standin behind a cannon, plannin to pop ya |
We got on yo' click like I’m with Trenchcoat Mafia |
I’m not afraid of you bitches, I raise hell |
And get respect when niggas, struggle for riches |
As the wind blow, through my window, real slow at night |
It shakes me in fright, it’s well after twelve |
But I still see a bright light (take 'em back to crime time) |
Oh you, motherfuckin right, cousin |
I see them fake thugs, givin up fake dap and fake hugs |
We appreciate the fake love |
Keep in mind I’m determined to shine like my son |
Industry enemy number one, yes yes y’all! |
I’m bout to start this bitch from Ground Zero (oh!) |
When I start cussin and bustin, niggas call pound zero |
I’m not just a rap AR-tist |
I’m also a gat pack artist (oh!) gat clap artist (oh!) |
And a condor, killer, set trap artist (oh!) |
Send forty-pound slugs through your back artist |
(Now that’s an artist!) I leave 'em left out |
With his flesh out, layin stretched out, sketched out |
(No doubt!) I still do the same thing |
Streey life is still a Fame game |
What you thought the game changed? |
I hang out and break day until the street lights go off |
Or the heat pipe go off (BOOM!) |
It’s what we pack on the Hilltop, (true!) |
What’s the sound when the steel pop? |
(BOOM!) |
Bitch! |
I will dismiss you |
You got issues, deal witcho issues |
I look 'em dead in the face, pop one in 'em |
And knock the venom out a motherfuckin snake |
I’m a thoroughfy his death y’all, and creep back through |
And if he’s stretched I’m like yes yes y’all |