| Hunnit 'Round Hef, True
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| You niggas know I keep two dike bitches with me
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| With Spiked collars, semi automatic pistols
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| Just for the static ya heard?
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| So don’t try me nigga
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| Desperado, sipping Actavis out the bottle
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| Living life like there ain’t no tomorrow
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| All I know is sorrow, see both my heart and my bullets hollow
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| I give the orders that the killers follow
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| I tell your bitch to swallow my kids and she better not miss a drop
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| Y’all selling bricks, we moving cinder blocks
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| I middle finger cops and judges, no love for authority
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| I break the law and move accordingly
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| And what you motherfuckers claiming ain’t no gang, you a sorority
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| Loading my clip while they recording me
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| Your baby mother just a whore to me
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| She boofed a quarter key of raw for me
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| I get her pussy wet just off the thought of me
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| All these lil niggas applauding me, I run the hood
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| Look, your big homies a fraud to me, that’s understood
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| They like «Hunnit Round rap, heard he put that Glock away»
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| Bullshit, I still clip you from a block away
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| I eyeball work, you could put your clock away
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| Fuck 'bout what a copper say, get him copped or topped today
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| I point aim and let the chopper spray
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| I think if I ruled the world I prolly body 'bout a cop a day
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| I got a job so I could cop a K and stick that motherfucker up
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| Give no motherfucking fucks
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| Owe me money, still breathing, that’s a motherfucking luck
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| O.J. |
| Mayo over yayo, I be shooting for the bucks
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| What what, how you want it, Mr. Never-Get-Confronted
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| Hunnit 'Round Hef, Mr. Pour-A-Four-Up-&-Get-Blunted
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| Coulda fucked your bitch, she was on my dick, but she fronted
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| She pulled out her tits, then I put my kids in her stomach
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| Trust me, I don’t give a fuck, I’m off like three-four xans
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| And I don’t know what I’m saying, I can’t even stand
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| Hot up counting up bands, whipping up grams
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| Yo bitch in a three point stand, dog just hit me from the can
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| If you gotta go, now I got blood on my hands
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| Now I got blood on my pants, even got blood on my face
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| Blue still tucked in my waist, trust I might shoot up the place
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| Then I might go to the safe, yes I might catch me a case
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| Whipping, I’m dipping on Jake, yes I might catch me a case
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| Whipping, I’m dipping on Jake, might catch me a case
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| Whipping, I’m dipping on Jake, whipping and dipping on Jake |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song M.O.B Memoir , by - Sha Hef. Song from the album Mafioso Psalms, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп