Verse 1:
|
[Yukmouth]
|
I live the life of a hooler
|
Take ten pages
|
Turn around and shoot 'em
|
Concrete Budda
|
We threw 'em in the creak to loose 'em
|
Streets polluted with drugs
|
Salute 'em with thugs
|
We used to
|
Sleep on a rug
|
A momma never said she loved
|
Or hugged us
|
It's just us, me and my two sisters
|
I'm too whooshes
|
Plus new bushes
|
With .22's up in the bushes
|
We ride, G's
|
Menace to societies
|
The real shit
|
Fuck a movie, the village
|
We filled with Chinese
|
Essays, Niggas, Cambodians
|
Or go against the police
|
Thugged Out like Napolean
|
Grab the milli, from my belly, catch new welly
|
Slugs in your Pelle Pelle, smell me
|
Since Makaveli died, it's like the Westcoast shit died
|
But Regime be the realest shit alive
|
Ride or die
|
So high am I, Nigga you can't tell from the eyes
|
Blood shot red
|
The feds gettin' bread from the pies
|
Wiseguys cops risk lay-off to stay off the block
|
Transportin' drop the Yay off
|
You paid off the top
|
Smoke-A-Lot popular on the lock
|
For flippin' birds like Nadia
|
Mafia, Rap-A-Lot Mafia
|
|
Verse 2:
|
[Willie D of the Geto Boys]
|
My Nigga, my Nigga
|
I'm here to say to
|
You try to tell it
|
Can even spell it
|
It's about respect
|
For God knows you was talking too
|
And the slap came
|
We be the realest motherfuckers in the Rapgame
|
Rap-A-Lot Mafia, you ain't ready for what we got for ya
|
I make a motherfucker doctor ya
|
See, it ain't all about records
|
We run the motherfuckin' streets in Houston, Texas
|
We mobilize and we been rated high
|
Our adversaries die, when our pull a fry, bullets fly
|
Like some motherfuckin' Blackbirds
|
When we ride
|
It's caskets and con words
|
Mob Nigga
|
|
Verse 3:
|
[T.L.T of the Ghetto Twiinz]
|
Fuck peace
|
See it's all about violence
|
Put that Tek to you silent
|
Leave you howlin
|
I'ma creep upon ya (Yeah)
|
I'ma put it on ya (Who)
|
Drop bombs on ya like they did in Oklahoma
|
|
[Mz. G.B. of the Ghetto Twiinz]
|
See ones that Nigga Yuk, look
|
Somebody gon die
|
You could took a try
|
And kiss that ass goodbye
|
You be found in your home Nigga
|
Head blown from that Chrome
|
Fuck with me, I'm livin' wrong Nigga
|
|
[T.L.T of the Ghetto Twiinz]
|
Nigga remember me
|
I'm the one, gon get ya
|
You better pray that God has switched ya
|
Fuckin' round with the Mafia
|
You torn blood from you bitches
|
Nigga what
|
Bustin holes in you bitches
|
|
[Mz. G.B. of the Ghetto Twiinz]
|
You better wear you vest, real tight bitch
|
The Mafia gonna put it in you life bitch
|
Ain't no motherfucker stoppin' up
|
The only bitch puttin' it down with the Mafia
|
Rap-A-Lot Mafia
|
|
Verse 4:
|
[DMG of FaceMob]
|
Niggas sure wonder why I hang with these thugs
|
Cause my Nigga Yuk fuckin' these Niggas up
|
Nigga, this Rap-A-Lot, Mafia till I die
|
Why? Because we ride
|
Everyday do or die
|
Riffles and .45's
|
17-shot 9's
|
Right up between your eyes
|
Niggas is gon die
|
Niggas come from the pound
|
Hummers and S-S's
|
Born to be a killer
|
Fill a Nigga
|
Body with holes
|
Head the toe when he showed up
|
Blow up your whole motherfuckin' head, quote us
|
And I'ma roll, with my Niggas till the wheels fall
|
Clean up the motherfuckin' car
|
And in this room we bring the world war
|
|
Verse 5:
|
[007 of the 5th Ward Boyz]
|
See the Circlepiece be the satellite
|
>From the 5th Ward
|
Command union, how we do it, how we do it
|
>From the South
|
Texas roll real, swing wide knock 'em out
|
Double "0" and Yuk worldwide what you talkin' about
|
See the .45's, see the big faces
|
Catchin' murder cases, hood erasers
|
Paper chasers
|
With the 98, sittin' on steakes
|
Ballin' in the bay with the Tek to place
|
|
Verse 6:
|
[E-Rock of the 5th Ward Boyz]
|
Recognize the Mob bitch
|
All day this thug shit
|
Blisted up, trigger fingers for Niggas that start shit
|
Creep this as I part quick
|
Ride dopefiend, will her with a tint
|
AK's and vest's
|
Born in California, killed down in Texas
|
Ohoh, slow your roll here come the po-po's
|
Anything can happen ridin' through execution capital
|
E-Rock the stupid fo', who's ridin' with this Nigga Yuk
|
We the Mafia, squabble the gun
|
Played out, droppin' ya
|
|
Verse 7:
|
[Lo-Life of the 5th Ward Boyz]
|
We |