Lyrics:
'lotta racks, dividends up in amounts
I'm with the mob and we finna cut a movie, nigga no Paramount
I cannot trust these niggas, yeah your words don't move
the wind out through
We never wash away the pain, so let the stain soak
Who's in the wave? I dids fingertips
carry language computer, Ray had Dad removed
like
Ringtones
I'm stepping out fresh
I'm stepping out clean
My n**** young Mob
The boy DPC
When I'm up in the D
We gon' stunt like a dog
My n***** drop
ain't been backstabbed then we can't relate (can't relate to me)
Yeah, I got mob ties that I'm not gon' say (yeah, I'm not gon' say)
I done been
your back when you ain't have nobody, you ain't have mob ties
I had to treat you like my kind
Never wanted you to commit suicide
For me that shit was
by the name of 2Pacalypse (uh)
The 707, my roost go hella far back to Floyd Terrace (yeah)
I pull a forty out of my ballcap
And then I flush it
by the name of 2Pacalypse (uh)
The 707, my roost go hella far back to Floyd Terrace (yeah)
I pull a forty out of my ballcap
And then I flush it
throughout the night
Causing heat waves whenever we pass you by
Like Santa we wrap and pack but keep the glizzy out of sight
When we attack I throw back
I took my day ones straight out of the gutter
Ride by myself I don't need me a brother
Right where I am from we don't front bout our paper
I ride
bumpin sounds trippin out while we flame janes
Tappin the horn at the homies that gangbang
And slang 'caine to maintain to mob's the same thing
Or we can
bro
Exac— enough said, enough said
And we gon' get back to the show and move on, because that shit petty my nigga
Mic check, mic check, mic check,
brighter and it's only gon' grow
And I'm gon' be by your side and you know we finna blow
Thinking back to how we used to order red soda
In the park 'til it
inside and I choked her thought she died
Came back to life like she got nine lives
Mob ties did a bunch of crime in '09
Look its DReidy on it
Holler when
(Maybe in this song, you shouldn't start by saying)
Nigga, I said it, I know that you mad
I've emptied the clip over friendlier jabs
You mentioned
back)
Whatever!
(Jamaican posse, yes, we love 2PAC)
You wanna see us? Have you punks wannabe’s
(warrior black an di yute nuh smoke crack)
Bad Boy killers,
pay em every week
Cause real niggas stay down
When ya bro fall down deep
We made it out the mud
Had to slide back by the creek
With my family by my
you, dumb for you
Hey, I’m about to go
Your one hundred we so hunterish
And you'll be muckin' up when she's bumpin this
Mister goodie good could
party
Gonna hang him high watch him die for killing Mary Jane
The mob is closer to the jail excitement all around
The deputies kept moving back afraid
Presidential, maybe I should run
Still get 'em by the ton, sixty-five three times a month
Bag, what you doin'? Baggin', baggin'
2020 McLaren, Moe got me
We poppin' Belaire cause we in this bitch with Rozay
Everybody staring from the door should take a flick
I got Louis, Gucci, Goyard, Dolce, Dior take
a tape but it won't bring my dog back
All facts
I'll give it all back, just to get a call back
I got mob ties, got to know my purpose
My little
and rub the wood
See we got boppers in Texas oh, man that pussy look good
So, I let them hoes ride and I show them a grip
But she blinded by the candy
wit me on Sick Mode
And Im sayin boy
Fall back stay in your lane
Im from where where Im from
Oh yeah we not the same truzmea
Naw man no back and forth
Steady loking
OG cause we smoking
Your daughter's in my bedroom
Blood smoking down my back
I'm playing I'm just joking
Andale vamanos
Andale vamanos
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