Lyrics:
soul
To Saturn, it doesn't matter how you roll
I'd rather you go
To the cemetery or morgue with 10 or
12 of your boys over hoes, money
Or irrelevant wars
with it
Check run shit uisan kick shit lu kang
Spit the Mack 10 like who bang
Burn shit new flame
Need a big booty bitch like two chains that come with
tell by how they clap
Like the stadium was packed
Wrist frost, Rolly Jack
Cheddar cheese all I need, now wonder why they call me Mack
Bless a bitch like
be trippin dont be doin no drive-bys
Cause we dont gangbang, dont wear blue or red
We like that fuckin green, papers what I said
Big Moe wassup, in
broke em all down and we all got high
And niggas don't be trippin don't be doin no drive-bys
Cause we don't gangbang, don't wear blue or red
We like
on the grip
Call me Rick Ross smokin on the good
Posted in the hood n i wish a nigga would
SK on the seat filt to the tip
Phantom ridin to da beach with a grill
[Memphis Bleek]
Yo I park where da crack at
Heads by packs at
Down in Philly
Where my niggas roll crabs at
Pack gats at
Run up in a label
Take
find my sweet escape
Got a cd in a case wit adhesive tape
It's gonna be a dope album by the time I return
And until that occurs, you can sit and observe
Is you rollin? [x4]
Bitch I might be [x2]
Girl he geeked up
Girl he geeked up
Bitch I might be [x4]
[Verse 1:]
East Atlanta slum man is where I
If I drop another album I did that for my dogs
10 Maybach's everybody riding big
I just sit back like look what I did
Then I bow my head and beg for
fuck we rob fo real
Got some standho niggas like the mob fo real
Got erasers in decatur a goon sqaud by mosey park
(this boyz n da hood)
[Chorus]
[Big
More bounce to da ounce Boi dem brownie's put me down for da count
Bangin on da corner wit dem rags out Ronald Reagan era seems like everybody hood
the same clothes
Vision got wind when the wind blows
Ten toes Wisemen, award given was heisman
Ayo time to unite, time to unite Wisemen
A-yo, straight up,
And get your mind robbed
Mask off, body shots, Mask on, face shots
Been a bad boy and I
Ain't talkin' bout ci-roc
Left wrist, iPod, Right hand Mack 10
Left
The rap struck 'em, harder than gettin' hit by a Mack truck and then backed up on
And any half-assed known rapper to trespass
Better be ready for
keep tellin ya'll dawg. I'm opposite all them niggas
ya'll see on t.v. bro.
I'm a tell u where I be at bro.
[Chorus: x2]
I don't hang in da v.I.p. so
[Chorus x2]
G'Z UP!, to every hood and every crew
You (you), supposed to have ya gun 'round you
N-I (and I), claim G-Unit till die
Got it down
enough
Drive-by's, blood-spattered on my shoe, I'm not hood enough
But why cry?
I Waka Flocka Flame, hit your block up
Thug life, it's in my veins, go
shit,
we dream of gangsta shit (Repeat)
Verse 1
I hit licks nigga lead the hood in strong arm
'bout to get more chickens than Foster Farms
Now give it up
just a part of the game
Niggas won't kill ya, just don't fuck with their Caine
Mack 10 silencer all ya heard was screams (ah!)
All I seen was
me, no Mariah
They say the hood is mine,
It's like the nigger was born against the wind
She, Johhny Frankenstein,
My auto-mo is pretty as camorra
Yeah, it's Da Backwudz man
Got my homie Killa Kill from Adamsville, all
The way stay to put it down
Man let's tell em how we get
It homie let's do it
Hood resgata a mente, que o sistema iludi,
Um GOG poeta da quebrada,
O foda é que ninguém tinha, DJ jamaica na pegada,
vixiii... se não seria um código
weaponry sponsors
Walk like a player, talk like a mack
Like a con out for rec, put da hawk in ya back
Barrel in yo mouth, let it burn like hot peppers
Hotter
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