Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Notha Nigga Car / Clothes, artist - Prophet Posse. Date of issue: 10.02.1998
Song language: English
Notha Nigga Car / Clothes |
| [Intro: Lord Infamous & |
| DJ Paul |
| That power can change a lot of these niggas |
| They step on a lot of toes, up that way up the ladder |
| But they don’t, they forget what goes up gotta come down |
| But all that’s go change |
| 1997 Prophet Posse |
| You know what I’m sayin |
| Loved by few, hated by many |
| We in the motherfucking house |
| We can’t be stopped |
| You can get dealt with at the end though |
| It’s all good |
| You better bring dangerous toys |
| My nigga!!! |
| If you wanna play with mafia boys |
| Y’all know where we located |
| We ain’t hard to find |
| We nation motherfucking wide |
| Bitch |
| We love the M and we ain’t tryin to leave it |
| For no nigga, nobody |
| Staying real to it |
| Representin to the fullest |
| You ain’t no real Black Haven nigga |
| Finger facin forward but you ain’t the one to trigger |
| Even if you figured you was a bit bigger |
| Thank you all that but ain’t got a glove made of glitter |
| Nigga when we see ya we go test ya ass |
| Bomb rushin to the curb and we go bless ya ass |
| Me and Chris in the burban trying to catch ya ass |
| It’s all good 5 G’s and we go set ya ass up |
| Picture me purchasing ya tape cover wasn’t good enough |
| Don’t like the scene is just like calling bluff |
| Much as we try to keep it cool |
| They all behind the back of me and my crew |
| Glocks and Techs with the vest we be getting it on |
| And we ain’t gonna stop until the early morn |
| So stop trading with this shit and get ya on |
| Three 6 Mafia, Killa Man I’m gone |
| Who is that fool who be talking that shit |
| Sayin he down, but he diss Triple Six |
| If that bitch step he go get his wig split |
| Blast smiff-n-wession 18 in the clip |
| Ain’t no gang bang he don’t even set trip |
| Grew up on kool-aid, potatoes, and chips |
| Why playa hate when you know we legit |
| Bank account fat and they riding the dick |
| We you need dough ask ya dad for the shit |
| 20's and 10's like you shopping for bricks |
| Got to pay back all the cheese he done spent |
| Studio time and the whole rest for rent |
| Juiceman I heard it’s some niggas dissin |
| But If they keep on dissin, then they momma gonna miss them |
| This ain’t no game nigga, here’s my fuckin opposition |
| Man I’m gettin tired of you niggas actin just like bitches |
| And we go ride out |
| Them bitches always ask me why do I call myself the Mack |
| Is it because of those ho’s I done broke |
| Or is it the way my cheese just stacked |
| But never the less it’s time to wreck and check |
| This buster that’s livin out of state |
| That’s dwelling in by ways of Memphis |
| Contemplate you must be fake |
| Playa hate to the first degree |
| You downing some niggas who down with me |
| See salt mouth snails not M-town playas |
| The Killa Klan Kaze gon watch you bleed |
| So play me like a ho and a nigga like Mack |
| Go stang ya stash |
| When that bitch nigga call me out |
| I’m emptying my clip off in his ass |
| So hold ya breath, nigga is you down |
| My pimping is thicker than the shit you talk |
| Predestined to burn eternally in hell contrast |
| By the way, ya ass done walk |
| MC mother fucking Mack |
| My Killa Klan Kaze be having my back |
| The Triple 6 Mafia ready to jack |
| So get the next nigga clothes off ya back |
| So many days, them niggas laid and prayed in 12 ways |
| Up on top of graves, resting place for heaven sake a soul to take |
| Straight thru the woods, deep in them hoods you find no good |
| Only bitches and other niggas rise in the wrong mood |
| So run them off the road before the gold hit ya headlight |
| It’s silent night, deadly night and guess who the sacrifice |
| The signs of a Lunatic |
| The Koopsta can’t take that shit |
| Makes my brain and mind split |
| It’s something like a crucifix |
| And I wish one of these punk ass niggas |
| Would step up to the Scarecrow |
| Beat a ho, fuck a nigga up slow |
| Cut his throat, puffin' on the Indo |
| Throw him through a window |
| With bloody clothes |
| Full with bullet holes |
| Lil dope heads can’t hang but they gangbang |
| Snd they slangin and the rangin |
| Maintaining insane is how menace remain |
| Just listen to the mother fucking rain |
| Wash ya blood down the drain |
| Bitch if ya itchin round me don’t scratch |
| Cause I’ll pull out the ax |
| Cut off ya nut sacs |
| Fuckin with the devil mask |
| Drop you into a batch |
| Niggas ain’t no match |
| Get drilled out where they at |
| Nigga better stick with smoking pot |
| Cause the shit he’s sniffing in his snot |
| Make him feel kinda hot |
| Gonna end up in a burial plot |
| Make me pull out the Glock |
| And pop-pop nigga get pop |
| Another nigga car, another nigga clothes |
| Niggas be flodging on these videos |
| But watch when that true gun fold |
| Another nigga car, another nigga clothes |
| Niggas be flodging on these videos |
| But watch when that true gun fold |