Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pop Goes My 9 , by - Mo B. DickRelease date: 14.07.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Pop Goes My 9 |
| See me an my click |
| We be hoppin outta Range Rover |
| Everyday Taz test, sober |
| Fightin fellon convictions, barely missin Angola |
| On the run, it’s hell |
| Fresh outta jail |
| That’s no life, carry me a nine, cops chase away the 4−5 |
| My girl ask me why I carry the nine, with the clip in |
| I said niggas blast me if they catch a nigga slippin |
| Yall trippin |
| Yall gave my hommie 25 with a «L» |
| But the nigga that killed my cousin, yall let that nigga out on bail |
| So I say, fuck this |
| And I hit the corner on the streets |
| Keep my nine up on the seat |
| And hold my nine like a G |
| Cuz I’ma hustle 'til I fall |
| I’ma have it all ball |
| Fuck them niggas I have nine up in my draws |
| No time to pause, as I smash off in the dust like what |
| Keep my nine, cuz its the only thing I can trust |
| An every since Ice Cube said, it’s really been a trip |
| I’d rather be |
| Judged by 12 than be carried by 6. That’s why its… |
| Picture me rollin, rest in peace Pac |
| I’m ridin in my 500 S-E-L strapped with my plastic Glock |
| Me an my bitch, we be hella tight |
| Fit in the palm of my hand |
| But I ain' t trustin a nigga tonight |
| I ain’t walkin out the door unless I got my bitch |
| My American Express, nigga, this will be it |
| Seven-teen kids to tag along |
| Hollow tips, black jack, call me Al Capone |
| But I’m dirty like Harry |
| I keep a 9 Millimeter cuz I ain’t gettin buried |
| My Glock be special like Ed |
| All yall nigga ain’t strapped |
| Might end up in the body-bag… |
| Pop, pop, goes the ruger out the Lexus LandCruiser |
| Best of slow ya roll hoe |
| 'fore I put some holes through ya |
| Boo-Yah, my fifty Calliber got niggas runnin back to Africa |
| Bitch banged up my passport so I’m swervin in my Acura |
| Grabbin on my dick |
| Smokin the shit |
| Momma kicked me out the house |
| I smack that bitch |
| Now I’m skandelous and rich |
| Mia-X said we got it tweekin |
| Them niggas tweekin |
| No Limit got some gangsta shit for the Mexicans and Puerto Ricans |
| New York to L.A., Miami to Atlanta |
| Black talons from my nine got them dancing the Macereña |
| Little kids in my hood slang dope an talk shit |
| By some violence, brah |
| Pass the silencer, pop that bitch… |
| I’m in my Navy Blue Beamer suckin on weed |
| Holdin the streets |
| As we brain off that vodka |
| We’re still in the nigga chopper |
| Gun slangin with pussy juice on my trigger finger |
| Its Kane an Abel, now who da bitch-made nigga banger… |
| Check it out playa |
| Nigga gotta protect ya motha-fuckin self fa the 9-skrilla |
| Nigga ya need to grab ya motha-fuckin nine 'fore ya grab ya shoes |
| Cuz nigga only got 1 life to lose |
| An a nigga gotta protect his own, playa |
| Nigga, live eye 4 an eye that’s how TRU Niggas live |
| An if yall real bout the situation |
| Nigga, trust no mutha-fuckin body |
| Let cha mutha-fuckin gun be ya friend, nigga |
| Cuz ya enemy might be right next to you. |
| Huh, remember that playa… |
| Pop-Pop goes the nine, nigga |
| But TRU Niggas ride dirty an stay strapped |
| An we Bout It |