Lyrics:
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Asics, (coke test) I ace it
I been rich, since 20, bitch
Gun right by the cash (what's that?) the money clip
This Gucci kicker got your girl in nuddy
sweet
Like a beach in Martinique, Goodie back up on they feet
Set it straight for the nine-eight, license plate with the triple A
Callin' all them
good was goodie
Tell her throw it back like a frisbee
Watch me eat the meat like manoush
Then we send her back to the hood
Me and the cuzzy gon round up
Good evening
Police do not try to adjust your radios
There is nothing wrong
We have takin' control over this city
As to bring you this special
y'all niggas, then we showed y'all niggas, huh?
We gon' take it back with this
By the time you get a show, we've been all around the globe, huh?
We
snitchin nobody out when ya facin a life sentence
For death, you do it by yo God-damn self
[Scarface]
He gettin clean, so we gave him a job
Had the whole
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