Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song M.O.B, artist - Messy Marv. Date of issue: 31.07.2006
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
M.O.B |
| 150 weezy what is it |
| Killa Tizzy what is it |
| Yeah, yo |
| Yo I done told y’all niggas before don’t try me |
| She know I’m surrounded with K’s and Mac nineties |
| Who really wanna find me?, come get 'em a piece |
| I be more than glad to show 'em all he gettin is grieve |
| With no relief, nigga fuck that beef shit |
| He better reach quick, I’m on the blind side of some sneak shit |
| Sedan on the deep dish, heavily tinted |
| Duggle bag in the trunk, heavy artillery in it |
| No longer lieutenant, I’m general now |
| I send lil niggas to combat like I’m Colin Powell |
| Or Donald Rumsfel, hundred round drumsfel with hollow |
| Squeeze off the clip make you blow like Chicago |
| I’m on the throttle, movin wrecklessly |
| Dick in the models, throw down while her neck is be |
| Don’t pless with me, I’ma say it again |
| For the coroner have to notify your momma and them nigga |
| I, aim, heat, rain, sleet, snow, sunshine |
| Livin the mafia life, duckin from one-time |
| (Livin the mafia life, duckin from one-time |
| Livin the mafia life, duckin from one-time) |
| I’m a soldier niga, four-five in my pocket |
| I put that motherfucker in ya face, nigga cock it |
| Second generation, do it fo' the niggas befo' me |
| I’m bangin this block, we ridin for the dead homies |
| I’m a gangsta lil daddy, I don’t love no rap |
| I just love the way she let me fuck her ass from the back |
| Nigga I’m a known shooter, I pepper your face |
| One shot, one kill, I walk with a case |
| I’m a young black gangsta, with the mind of Matula |
| King of the underground, your boy black ruler |
| Have ya feelin like you comin from the Heron spot |
| These hot shells 'll start givin you them Heron knocks |
| And it ain’t no squashin the drama, it’s on for life |
| And them killas ridin with me, whether I’m wrong or right |
| And ain’t one nigga comin, man, we all gon creep |
| Ain’t one nigga leavin, y’all all gon sleep nigga |
| My mindstate sicker than most, It’s hardball |
| We coast to coast gettin lit with my folks, fuck y’all |
| Tryin to hate on my team, ain’t no way you could stop it |
| I stay surrounded by bosses no lossos it’s all profit |
| I, eat good, creep through your hood and knock hoes |
| It’s magic when I step in the booth, I got flows |
| I murder type beats like the mancy plan |
| You might, catch me at the club showin love to my fans |
| But understand this, I’m scandalous when it come to my chips |
| I rip tracks like receipts, I, never came weak |
| I, aim, heat, rain, sleet, snow, sunshine |
| Livin the mafia live, duckin from one-time |
| Crime pays every seven to nine days |
| I put, minds in a maze, recline it with rage |
| Blind filthy, shinin jewelry in ya face for fun |
| My bomb lyrics detonate and educate your sons |
| I’ma show you how the west was won |
| California to Seattle, we the ones ain’t no protection from |
| Second to none, record label makin it crack |
| Breakin in racks, full press blatin the tactics |