Lyrics Mug - P Money

Mug

Yeah, yo
Indirect and I will direct man to your house
I guess I weren’t lying, cuh man came round to your studio when a man couldn’t
find your house
Fans were like «P, what’s all this about?»
I smacked him up for a diss that wasn’t even out
Had him holding his head like «How'd he find out?»
When I asked what you were saying you couldn’t find your mouth
In fact Joseph when I ran up in your studio you was like «Huh?»
(bow!)
Dazed
You was like «Wait!»
(bow!)
Dickhead, shut your mouth (bow!)
Now you’re putting on a show about how you’re gonna get at me now but at the
time of getting banged in your face your show was I’m a celebrity get me out
Man doubted me and wanna bread me now
No, stay over there (mug)
When I got it cracking you ran (mug)
Never even pulled out the shank (mug)
I just stamped on the bredda and skanked (mug)
I swear down ask him what he done, in fact ask him if he even swang back once
About two against one, this was all before you saw Blacks you mug
Last guy that rivalled me got spun
I ain’t even gonna tell him how the other got done, cause you got done the same
way you punk, you bitches ain’t on shit one bag of nuns
I don’t wanna hear no lyric about one bag of guns
Smacked up bare times and got back no one
And you ain’t never backed no one
With that CV I wouldn’t back to back no one
Oi Dot, you are not holding a gun you got boxed
All you do is phone everyone
You’re worse than my old groupies, man held a beating, went online and then he
told everyone
Young Dot, Dot Rotten, Zeph Ellis, Big Dotti all smacked up and then rolled
into one
Man said he ain’t snitching so what was you doing when you told everybody
You’re trying
Stop with the gassing and stop with the lying
You’ve been moist for years, well now you ain’t drying
Talking the hardest like we don’t remember when Desperado had you in the
basement crying
Thought it was your time, you thought you was dying
Cause you know what one of my guys get like with the iron
Calling for help begging a man to save you from where I’m sitting that’s a lot
of relying
You were like 29, grown men don’t rely
You don’t want this smoke brudda don’t lie
Thought you was a gun man, months have gone by and all you’ve done is huff and
puff and write
Oh my god bro, Jesus Christ
How you getting boxed up in the same place twice?
Thought you would jump in the whip and ride, instead you went home with your
forehead iced
Lusardi asking if you’re alright
Dunno bout you but had a good night
Montana mode, but you ain’t ever pushed white
You’re a jumper, you’ve never been a hood type
Bro this like Marlo from The Wire going up against a man fresh out of Brookside
Thought you was going on dread, cut man and left man with a short,
back and sides