right back at cha!
uh, 3 times!
let these fools know they f-ckin wit… mobb life!
you know, b.a., mr. kamakazie
keek da sneak, sneaky one
ager man, my boy
[verse 1: ager man]
first off all
i got no time for these b-tches thats smilin all in my face
these n-gg-s like b-tches be fake,
from head to toe laced up wit hate, n-gg-
i’m a playa!
ridin, cuz fake n-gg-s be scary liers
got me strapped up in a zone to open fire
you got killas, we got killas to play the game of cash
too many softies tryin to copy, but now i’m up in they -ss
see mama raised me to be a leader, so m-th- f-cka follow me
when the funk go down we ridin’ deep,
wit a, i got you, an a you get me
fear no man but god, so if it’s on, its on
cowards can come an get ya, but i’ma get ya later on
i’m all bout me an mine
f-ck the snitches, f-ck the b-tches
keep an out when we ride
cuz we on a mission for riches
n-gg- feel this, laced up by realas, dealas an killas
that give a f-ck about ya feelin’s, cuz n-gg- its strictly business
n-gg- what? back up off me you softie
i’m a cold piece of work like a dope fiend when
you b-tch n-gg-s try to cross me
[chorus x2: keek da sneak]
the sickness of a million n-gg-s
envy the enemy
the remedy? leave ya mind froze
an blind fold, an tied up in a truck
that says three times! fa ya mind hoe
an they find foes in a cutl-ss sweet.
destruction of east.
[verse 2: keek da sneak]
k-r-a-z-y just f-ckin’ it up everytime
it’s trip gold an shine
(an i…) keeps my nine
you gettin robbed n-gg-
i put that on the mobb n-gg-
so don’t be slippin
hatin an seregatin an thought them youngstas wasn’t trippin
do g’s get to go?
when the weapons h-t the spot
an all you d-mn impersonators gotta pay
get f-cked wit an a-k
b-tch you bit it
on the verge?
no longer ready
see yous a poodle
an when you see them n-gg-s betta up ya sh-t
an yous a?
burbons an harleys
reported stolen, you b-tches so n-gg-s is ridin’ charlie
lavishly coordinated, this family tree
paraph-n-lia 2 tha m.o.b.
got it tatted on my stomach
three times! when i run it
that’s what i’m sizzilin gettin them bucks
an aint no b-tch gettin free f-ck
it’s a.o.b. for the nine-say whaaa?!
in the cut
throw out my dezzle
tryin’ to get off the hizzle
til the next n-gg- rizzle
what the f-ck he talkin’ bout “pull pistols”?
you gotta minute
pulled him over, i shot his -ss
two left, so i bounced in
wanna hit the bomb? b-tch hold ya breath.
[verse 3: bart]
we come out the cuts an f-ck sh-t up like straight mobbstas
n-gg-s is dyin to die but ready to ride like face mobbstas
boy, ya feelin this gangsta paradise?
dealin we shakin the dice an watch you end it wit yo life
we sold a gang a buddah
you juss a cutie, you actin like them groupies
so you dyin to tell a hoochie
juss a bootsie n-gg-
i hate n-gg-s thats down to rape n-gg-s wit b-tches
you steadily stackin ya chips but b-mpin ya gums to all them b-tches
n-gg- i know you love to hate us
boy ya should wake up
before we touch ya f-ckin face up like mascara make-up
we stackin more chips than in casinos
dippin’ in reno
mad cuz we pocketed all them c-notes
n-gg- crack some cee-low
shoot ya shottie an get forgotten
cuz me an my peoples gon get ya peoples an gets to mobbin.
mobb juss like a muta f-ckin body blow or sumpthin
no hittin n-gg- wit this, 3 times sh-t!
you know, can you handle it?
cuz a m-th- f-cka might fold up an fumble
steppin on n-gg-s, you know
crawlin on n-gg-s, but then we steppin now