Lyrics:
Hearin you out is senseless, perhaps for instance
I give this faggot a french kiss
Black gloves, no prints, dark tints
Word on the street they ain't heard
1999 (Yeah)
TLC, M-O-B (And Goodie Mob)
The synergy of ghetto sounds for the Y-2-G
(What'cha wanna do with it?)
What it is, what it ain't
(What?)
Got no time for the courts, my only thought is open fire
Hit the district attorney, but fuck that bitch, cause she's a lie
Now it's time to expire, I
hitting stains
the mob life runs through my veins
its too late for me to change
these streets got me deranged
strapped up and paranoid
ready to add
hitting stains
the mob life runs through my veins
its too late for me to change
these streets got me deranged
strapped up and paranoid
ready to add
[chorus]
Fuck nigga that's enough said.
See a bitch is only good for a duck head.(quacka)
USD, Grade A pure jaw-jacka
Low self-esteem nigga can't out
leave you broke
So the only thing left now is God for these cats
And B.I.G. you know you too hard for these cats
I'm a win cause I'm too smart for
game
You claim to be a player
But I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life
Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip
Biggie
Makaveli for the Mob, M-O-be
Killin' bustaz is my motherfuckin' job, him or me
Lyrically fatally driven, niggaz reported missin'
My competition dead or in
for this territory
Makin our life one big story to tell
Reality amongst the youth, long as, breath is in my body
I got proof, I'm not scared
If
boy beat a murder and now
I'll see him in Jumaa
And now it's only? Muhammad? for his junior
He got a second chance and
Got him a second life
I'm jokin'
Amazing Grace
She super anxious waiting for a taste
Papi in the trap like Rob Base
I served my man' uncle raw base
He still feel some typa way to this day
I
myself
Until I've fallen ill I will put up my sail
Oh solitude oh my my
Enemy is noticing
Waiting for my downfall
Silly wait
I ain't ever felt this way
I
taking over
We dreaming of make more money cause nigga this life keep getting shorter
So suit up and be prepared for this thug world order
We ready for tha
Black cotton
Black cotton
Black cotton, a symbol for unrewarded struggle
Time for a little gospel tale
Ghetto gospel that is, listen
Rotten
ain’t no fakin’ on the rap
That ain’t what we about
I gots to keep it real
This is Hunters for life
When you think of OFTB, think of sacrifice
Now
And doin' dirt ain't savin' me
But the streets is the only thing payin' me
Feel me
Runnin' with G's, stackin' G's, packin' heat
Mob life 'til these
your sugar girl)
CLK, It's that girl Mya, oh holla,
('Cause I'ma be a player for life) Come on (I'll be your sugar girl)
M.O.B. records (cause I'm
the lotto
Life's a bitch and then you die
Got rhymes 365 days annual plus some
This second verse is dedicated to
Rappers that never made it
'Cause they gave
Hearin' you out is senseless, perhaps for instance
I give this faggot a french kiss
Black gloves, no prints, dark tints
Word on the street they ain't
Hearin' you out is senseless, perhaps for instance
I give this faggot a french kiss
Black gloves, no prints, dark tints
Word on the street they ain't
Heading back to my lawyer for more intel
It's this music exec down at club Malibu
With his British accent claiming he got juice
I put his knowledge to test
on
Fo's of drink
I ain't got shit for these
But I'll prove choppa
Gone sing like jodeci
I'll catch a body real life
No movie won't nobody
In this bitch know
Freddy)
Hit me on the first when your mail has come
And maybe we can go to the mall or somethin' (to the mall or somethin')
Heavy ass shit for the mob
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