Lyrics:
Southern california hardcore (back up in that ass) we ain't gonna warn ya (KMK mob)
Stoners Reakin Havoc who wants next? get them l-o-see snap they necks,
called up
The shit I spit how shit get caught up
Get rid of mycrow bar before a person 14-5
The shit niggaz gotta do try 2 get high
As time fly by so
made men
Not the wife and children, that's when rats come in
It be your girl in the parlor, talking like shit rich
And next to her, gettin' her nails
known as a thug and thief
So anyone with beef
I gotta slug to sleep
Peep, I'm not no nigga
Figure he can come up
By getting a job so I mob
Not
Bang bang same thang game came when I left em
I do it by my lonely now I'm the Big Homie
[Slick Rick]
But I'm his Royal Slickness
Time's on my side mufucka
Time do what the fuck I tell it to do
You know what I'm sayin
This that mob shit
Vagabond, bitch
This that piss everyone
[big ed]
Chorus
We some mob niggas
Bust your ass out your hilfigers
No limit mercenary killers
We some thug niggas
We some tru niggas
What you wanna
the funeral parlor
This kid that owed me dough, I didn't take his life
Instead I tied him up and made him watch me rape his wife
One nigga cold tried to diss me
like a pharaoh
Killin the game in my scarceheart apparel
Ain't trynna boss up tell me what you here for
Roll wit the mob feel like Robert De Niro
Run up
blessings, nigga
Got married to the fucking mob when I met it
Nigga
Everybody cried at my motherfucking wedding
Nigga
Everybody 5 in my motherfucking section
did and do shit that's better than new shit (what)
Fit for two clips (what)
The kid is a nuisance (yeah)
Aw man, he's inspired by his own gangsta
to the famous, fabled walls of Jericho
Old billiard parlor walls come-a tumbling down!
Well, a band'll do it, my friends
Oh yes, I said a boys' band, do ya hear
I used to serve by my grandma's house (yeah)
I left some birds by my grandma's house (hah, brrt)
You knockin' at the door, but no, I can't come out
she telling me she "feeling the kid"
Ain't been myself in some months, I just ain't been sayin' shit
Gon' go down the realist, the most solid it get
She
and hang out in the parlor
After the sun went down
That old beanbag from the sixties was
The best seat in the house
Every night by nine o'clock
We'd
simple blunders
And the funeral just ride on by
Procession whole street wide
Til niggas get shot in the parlor
Somebody somebody call the doctor
Before one
Cultivated roots grown in basements
Nurtured by 808 hits, and bass riffs
Road to Vegas, fearing and loathing faded
Culminating in my soul escaping,
It's me baby
I was the mayor in the v, niggas know that
You heard the name
Back by popular demand, these niggas watered down the game
I was
the magic that you're used to
I float a rose, hands free, like it's Bluetooth
My grand illusions make your parlor tricks irrelevant
The foot of Lady Liberty
A schizophrenic veteran prays
To a God he met today
In the absence of a saint
Behind a tattoo parlor in the rain
In the light of the neon cross
A crying kid
chill by the parlor
I be wreakin' havoc
You can't fucking have it
I can never panic
Because I'm too organic
She think that she savage
But I think that she
When I talk about the things I never did
Lets take it back to when I was a little kid
Sitting on the stoop before I thought of smoking cigs I was
like a cop!
Infrared with the dot (Infrared with the dot)
Don't you feel the kid?
Ain't that feeling rare?
Don't you know how to share?
Leave it right
did and do shit that's better than new shit (what)
Fit for two clips (what)
The kid is a nuisance (yeah)
Aw man, he's inspired by his own gangsta
Discuss these kids by the parlor mob Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In