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