| Finally, I got all real niggaz on on a muthafuckin’Posse song
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| Niggaz that’s down to cut some muthafuckin’heads
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| (Mafia, ya, y-ya, y-ya, ya, ya)
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| From hear to ATL, to Nashville, back to the M-town nigga
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| And you know what that mean bitch
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| Makin’easy money, pimpin’hoes is serious bitch
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| Makin’easy money, pimpin’hoes is serious nigga
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| Project Pat-
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| Call a nigga, drug dealer, out here on the track nigga
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| Weed smoker, coke snorter, come and get a pack nigga
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| Cane slanger, bitch banger, dog I’ll bring it to ya
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| If you got a problem with me, holla at my Luger
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| Dro puffer, cheese come up, when we on the track jack
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| Hit you in the head, with the gat, 'til your skull crack
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| Blood gushin', head rushin', act first, no discussion
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| Come with that bullshit, then the bullets start bustin'
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| Lord Infamous-
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| First crime, we came with Mystic Stylez on grime
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| You slip, I Live By My Rep don’t fuck with mine
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| Da End, the souls of men embedded inside the Posse
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| The Prophet, the Posse, we all collide
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| We brutal, the Chapter 2 to end the phase, our mind
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| In crime, reminds, CrazedNLazDayz
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| Heypno-tize, and blazed another gold plate
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| Sixty 6, sixty 1, The Smoke Clears, evaporate
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| Juicy J-
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| I got a 357, a tec with a black clip
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| A 180 pounds witha fist that will bust lips
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| Some killaz on my side, if I tell 'em they gon’get
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| A fiend wiolatin’the business, I ain’t wit'
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| And now in 2000 you talkin’the same shit
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| And now in 2000 I’ll bust and I won’t miss
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| They smoke is in the air the liquor is still a fill
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| The grill is still gold, and the curls they know kick doors
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| MC Mack-
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| First one of us is done, hollow tips come by the ton
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| Two AK’s, and put some drama to leave this niggaz bodies numb
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| I don’t talk this shit for fun, cock it back and let it go And 6 shots, from the 3−6 shooters lettin''em know, WHOA!
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| Picture me, naked face, to kickin’in your door
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| 4, niggaz deep, bandanas with black calicos
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| So, when we creep, drop cause I’ma hit you nine times
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| Take your nine lives, bump up and Hypnotize your mind, blow
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| Crunchy Black-
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| You can believe this, you can believe that
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| And believe I got a baseball bat, and I’m bustin’your head black
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| You believe I’m comin’strong, you believe I’m all grown
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| You believe, that nigga, I love to get it on You half steppin'
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| I got the weapon
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| Boom! |
| Boom! |
| I’m blastin’at your mind to get you believe that
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| I love to kill, I love the thrill
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| And I love to put a nigga body parts in the field, nigga
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| La Chat-
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| No no, come, come and get this bitch, ain’t got no time fo no shit
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| Got all my boys, don’t make no noise,
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| just throw that trick in the ditch
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| It ain’t no way La Chat gon’let it slide, with the shit that you done
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| I got my piece for what I do, to show you who the fuck number one
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| I shot that bitch without causes, ain’t got no love in my heart
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| It ain’t no way that I can’t handle, keep that tone in my jaw
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| This ain’t no crap, I speak the truth, gotta come too thick to get me On one of you hoes, before you come, La Chat ain’t gone easy
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| Koopsta Knicca-
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| Man a bitch’ll take that lil bit out her pussy for them papers
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| Get the fuck away from me ho because the crew can’t stand them vapors
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| Take her, break her, to whip that funky bitch
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| Talkin’that shit about this
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| man you’ll get 10 slugs up in your arm pits
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| Yeah we can do i, t take your time and do it right
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| You can gimme the fuckin’chewin', I can fuck you all night
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| Wanna fight about your friends see how them bitches gon’start
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| See now that’s that type of shit that get my muh’fuckin’dick hard
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| T-Rock-
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| Capital Mack-11's, and load 'em full of ammunition
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| Terrorist sect’s, we pull and lock’em in the Expedition
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| No set a niggaz got guns equivalent to what we pack
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| Nuclear pistols and fire scorchin’automatic gats
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| How in the fuck can you handle the, butsa damager
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| Toss that bitch over the banaster, like trash canisters
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| Hollow points into your battle troops, when I have to shoot
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| Plus I’ll be storin’the cap for you, and trick be absolute
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| MC Mack-
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| I woke up early Saturday morning,
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| suddenly your phone was ringin’off the charger
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| Thinkin’to myself, man, is it a bitch or cop, or is it them robbers |
| Got MC Mack of in a scheme, I’m stainin’for my dividends
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| And pay a livin', neh nigga,
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| gon’bother my cheese gon’reach the ceilling fan
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| You can catch my in that president thing, on gizold when you see me You can joke me, ever rope me, best believe your bleed this evenin'
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| Fuck the reason, and the treason,
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| time to get dirty nigga better I’ll pop it You was gaspin’for your life, but all I heard was Killa Klan Kaze
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| DJ Paul-
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| Bitches think we playin', think this killa shit a joke
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| Don’t fuck around with HCP and get you ass smoked, ho Comin’with some fully auto’s, fuck some semi’s
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| Hit 'em with some hollow auto’s, cause I desp-iz-ise
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| Blastin’like some rondo batays, for you miatays
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| Koop with double clicks and duck tape, and wicked wizays
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| And I, perferin’keepin’busin’in my freak time
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| Taught 'em in that buried unknown, they wanna reap why
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| Give you second thoughts about that businness, you then finished right
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| Take you to the vault, cash it in, all night flight
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| And I’m in a bad mood, cocaine make it that
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| Plus, I gotta ease on this nine-milly, willy, nigga I slang with that
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| Bitch, nigga, it’s CP nigga
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| HCP, Hypnotize Camp Posse nigga
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| What, what, it’s CP nigga
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| HCP, Hypnotize Camp Posse nigga |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song M.E.M.P.H.I.S. , by - Three 6 Mafia. Song from the album Kings Of Memphis: Underground, Vol. 3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп