| I live the life of a hooler
|
| Take ten pages
|
| Turn around and shoot em Concrete budda
|
| We threw em in the creak to loose em Streets polluted with drugs
|
| Salute em with thugs
|
| We used to Sleep on a rug
|
| A momma never said she loved
|
| Or hugged us Its just us, me and my two sisters
|
| Im too whooshes
|
| Plus new bushes
|
| With .22s up in the bushes
|
| We ride, gs Menace to societies
|
| The real shit
|
| Fuck a movie, the village
|
| We filled with chinese
|
| Essays, niggas, cambodians
|
| Or go against the police
|
| Thugged out like napolean
|
| Grab the milli, from my belly, catch new welly
|
| Slugs in your pelle pelle, smell me Since makaveli died, its like the westcoast shit died
|
| But rgime be the realest shit alive
|
| Ride or die
|
| So high am i, nigga you cant tell from the eyes
|
| Blood shot red
|
| The feds gettin bread from the pies
|
| Wiseguys cops risk lay-off to stay off the block
|
| Transportin drop the yay off
|
| You paid off the top
|
| Smoke-a-lot popular on the lock
|
| For flippin birds like nadia
|
| Mafia, rap-a-lot mafia
|
| My nigga, my nigga
|
| Im here to say to You try to tell it Can even spell it Its about respect
|
| For God knows you was talking too
|
| And the slap came
|
| We be the realest motherfuckers in the rapgame
|
| Rap-a-lot mafia, you aint ready for what we got for ya I make a motherfucker doctor ya See, it aint all about records
|
| We run the motherfuckin streets in houston, texas
|
| We mobilize and we been rated high
|
| Our adversaries die, when our pull a fry, bullets fly
|
| Like some motherfuckin blackbirds
|
| When we ride
|
| Its caskets and con words
|
| Mob nigga
|
| Fuck peace
|
| See its all about violence
|
| Put that tek to you silent
|
| Leave you howlin
|
| Ima creep upon ya (yeah)
|
| Ima put it on ya (who)
|
| Drop bombs on ya like they did in oklahoma
|
| See ones that nigga yuk, look
|
| Somebody gon die
|
| You could took a try
|
| And kiss that ass goodbye
|
| You be found in your home nigga
|
| Head blown from that chrome
|
| Fuck with me, Im livin wrong nigga
|
| Nigga remember me Im the one, gon get ya You better pray that God has switched ya Fuckin round with the mafia
|
| You torn blood from you bitches
|
| Nigga what
|
| Bustin holes in you bitches
|
| You better wear you vest, real tight bitch
|
| The mafia gonna put it in you life bitch
|
| Aint no motherfucker stoppin up The only bitch puttin it down with the mafia
|
| Rap-a-lot mafia
|
| Niggas sure wonder why I hang with these thugs
|
| Cause my nigga yuk fuckin these niggas up Nigga, this rap-a-lot, mafia till I die
|
| Why? |
| because we ride
|
| Everyday do or die
|
| Riffles and .45s
|
| 17-shot 9s
|
| Right up between your eyes
|
| Niggas is gon die
|
| Niggas come from the pound
|
| Hummers and s-ss
|
| Born to be a killer
|
| Fill a nigga
|
| Body with holes
|
| Head the toe when he showed up Blow up your whole motherfuckin head, «e us And ima roll, with my niggas till the wheels fall
|
| Clean up the motherfuckin car
|
| And in this room we bring the world war
|
| See the circlepiece be the satellite
|
| >from the 5th ward
|
| Command union, how we do it, how we do it
|
| >from the south
|
| Texas roll real, swing wide knock em out
|
| Double «0"and yuk worldwide what you talkin about
|
| See the .45s, see the big faces
|
| Catchin murder cases, hood erasers
|
| Paper chasers
|
| With the 98, sittin on steakes
|
| Ballin in the bay with the tek to place
|
| Recognize the mob bitch
|
| All day this thug shit
|
| Blisted up, trigger fingers for niggas that start shit
|
| Creep this as I part quick
|
| Ride dopefiend, will her with a tint
|
| Aks and vests
|
| Born in california, killed down in texas
|
| Ohoh, slow your roll here come the po-pos
|
| Anything can happen ridin through execution capital
|
| E-rock the stupid fo, whos ridin with this nigga yuk
|
| We the mafia, squabble the gun
|
| Played out, droppin ya We mob figgers
|
| We to take the whole world out
|
| At 50 states all black god
|
| After that, we still gon grind on the side
|
| To make your motherfuckers mind
|
| I pop the 9, you pop the 9
|
| And all yall motherfuckers dyin
|
| We gon drive by We walk up and do these niggas out the game
|
| We sell 2 shot, and none left in the chain
|
| Cause its rap-a-lot mafia man
|
| Is to be fuckin with man
|
| Watch who you talk to We kill
|
| If thats what its brought down to Off with his motherfuckin head with the lead |
| Dead leave his hilfiger shirt all real
|
| Said its motherfucker locked in your spot
|
| Shots will be dropped, right here, right now
|
| Paw, niggas all the way tugged down
|
| Town
|
| Ride around town showin out
|
| Pounds
|
| City after city fuckin hoes
|
| Yours aint a lot act like you know
|
| Capone with the city complete assassinater
|
| With paper, blow up a nigga shit like sky pagers
|
| Its major, save a whole out of not
|
| Stop, if you think your feelin fin popped
|
| Rap-a-lot cant stop, wont, dont stop
|
| And we did already hit the top
|
| Rap-a-lot cant stop, wont, dont stop
|
| And we did already hit the top
|
| Mob
|
| I be comin through rages
|
| And niggas thinkin I pissed off
|
| Im itchin to get my sick off
|
| I be trickin them if they trick off
|
| All hands about to get kicked off
|
| Nigga I got em Fuck up your body when the slugs touch down
|
| Runnin up on me you feel it The realest and platinum bound
|
| With the nigga called yuk
|
| We brakin bed and ballin
|
| Feds hollin
|
| Bloody bodies with no heads
|
| And calling your momma nigga
|
| Yo, who the mob, feel her
|
| Rap-a-lot nigga
|
| Kick that john quicker
|
| I missed the bomb disher
|
| Flat the palms
|
| Money is in my figures
|
| With our triggers
|
| Snypaz be red dot niggas
|
| We the mafia and yuk sent your picture
|
| So were droppin
|
| Maybe you speakin
|
| Role one
|
| Kill each other, smoke some
|
| Po-pos pass to folks some
|
| Rap-a-lot mafia known from
|
| We puts limits on niggas
|
| We hold money over bitches
|
| Let the whole world recognize the realest
|
| When its bangin rap-a-lot mafia
|
| The streets most popular
|
| Servin your hood like helicopters
|
| Say the wrong thing and Ill slaughter ya Disrespect the mob, young catch punkin heads
|
| Wishin you was dead
|
| Layin in bed the next
|
| Nigga what did I say
|
| To make these niggas act this way
|
| Rich thugs still got me muggs
|
| Just to remind a motherfucker, about where I was
|
| Nothin but love from my thugs
|
| Get your paper cause
|
| We laugh and drink when we rich, black and know this spore
|
| Nigga this rap-a-lot mafia
|
| Interlude:
|
| You aint gotta come from cranestreet
|
| 200 or circlepiece
|
| Its all about do you believe
|
| Rap-a-lot mafia life
|
| Rap-a-lot on the streets
|
| Recognize the mob or get you ass mobbed on No love to ones who oppose
|
| We taggin motherfuckers toes
|
| And we aint even got a dresscode
|
| Just those, 1000 niggas infront of expos
|
| Waitin on the next goes
|
| So lets roll and lets go Aint no sissy niggas survivin
|
| If you dont come with them you got a problem
|
| Solve em, hit em with the .44 revolver
|
| Make an amount of what believe is right before his daughter
|
| Exactly like the doctor ordered
|
| Dressin your homies up in church clothes
|
| You took the shot, that brought the black hoe
|
| And thats cold, but thats the motherfuckin thing
|
| Respect the mob and little j and the family name |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song RAL Mafia , by - Yukmouth. Song from the album 18k - The Golden Era: Deluxe Edition, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп