Lyrics:
Mama!
Now you lads
Will you just shout Happy Christmas for us
For this tape, eh?
Happy Christmas?
Yeah go on one, two, three
Happy Christmas!
me? Billboards, platinum record that I wrote for the best
Bro I really had hits, and you? Just a dose of success
Lemme guess, those bars are nothing
A yo it's crazy bugged
It's like we're speaking another language
Our hearts anguish
For those who doesn't understand this
The streets became dull
the body like turtles
Righteous or wicked, see, we'll take root
Which one you further for
Christ will deliver you with no pain
Epidural, uh, don't matter,
on the bullet, make you feel special
Ha, what the fuck you boys talking about?
I know its us 'cause we the only thing to talk about
No one on the corner have
on the bullet, make you feel special
Ha, what the fuck you boys talking about?
I know its us 'cause we the only thing to talk about
No one on the corner have
to avenge those before you
we'll send somebody to avenge you
there's still a cause worth fighting for
production at home, recourses abroad
exporting fascism
snakes and cakes
Fiends found in lakes, jealously Jakes we shake
What I strive for is what I live for
Infatuated by material things in this wild life
snakes and cakes
Fiends found in lakes, jealously Jakes we shake
What I strive for is what I live for
Infatuated by material things in this wild life
the ladies' pick all around the world
But I only got eyes for just one girl
I don't roll twirl around like a ballerina
I roll through towns and I rock arenas
I
trappin'
Watch for the damn neighbors
Call the cops on us
And we had them Glocks on us
Pocket full of rocks on us
They was sending SWAT for us
Super
dance
We be sagging our pants
So low you could see our boxers mayne
We body rock
We body rock (What else)
We body rock
We body rock (For sho)
Southern
nigga named Screw
The Kici's in this bitch, my nigga Jonathan
I got about 6 or 7 pounds from him
He broke em all down and we all got high
And niggas dont
do
And for us it ain't gon' be no 21 gun salute
Say a prayer when I wake up
Put on my fatigues and my combat boots
Me in my troops
We make it do what
to wall
Got my money up, we, we're goin' to walk
Salute, salute
Yeah
Montana, what up, baby?
Word up, you know what it is, my nigga
Louis Rich right here,
What about those other women (what about 'em what about 'em)
You won't shut up about those other women (you won't shut up about 'em up about 'em)
So
'Melo cause scoring is my shit boy
I'm CP3 'cause I be dishin' and handlin' the rock
Chef cooking with the pot boy
It's all about the muthafuckin' money
for war not to cease
Palestinian blood will stain you hands eternality
G generations of families killed instantly
E erasing entire neighborhoods with
the ladies pick all around the world
But I only got eyes for just one girl
I don't twirl around like a ballerina
I roll through towns and I rock arenas
I may
So all along we sing
We were, Broken, Torn
Rejected, Hurting, Scorned
But for those with eyes on the Lord
Strength, peace, joy, is in store
So I
enough for you to be in the know
Know we salute to the experience
We were the loud ones with quiet souls
Intentions well and good but buried underneath
take you there
Been waiting for the longest while
We styling, profiling, no lie
Wanna keep you by my side
No dreaming, real feeling
Hot steaming,
[Chorus]
Mo B. Dick
We Gangstafied (Yes you know, yes you know ,yes you know)
We Gangstafied (This is for the real tru Gangstas)
We Gangstafied
[Chorus]
Mo B. Dick
We Gangstafied (Yes you know, yes you know ,yes you know)
We Gangstafied (This is for the real tru Gangstas)
We Gangstafied
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