Mash Out Posse (M.O.P.) - Raise Hell | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Mash Out Posse (M.O.P.)
• Raise Hell

Yeah, yeah go nigga
Raise hell yeah, yeah
Raise hell yeah, yeah
Go nigga, raise hell

The new single, kid get your shit mixed
Catch this new slug from the M.O.P. hit list
It's thorough for the cars, for the clubs, for the Jeeps
(For the fellas on the corner posted up 20 deep)

Hold it down, Home Team back out to sail this
Make 'em collapse with caps and fame make 'em famous
The "Downtown Swinger" gun slingers rock wild
And when I die, I won't be putting out flames in hell

Cop a 10 Milli from the corner store Arab
Fools with truck jewels get stuck for they karats
Hold on you hear somebody comin', you hear somebody gunnin'
Them niggaz that you run with is runnin'

'Cause it's
(Bullets over Brownsville)
I'm from the place where trey-pounds and fo-pounds kill
Fool how that sound?
(I'll)

The star vendor, bend 'em like car fenders
Serve 'em like bartenders
What's next on the agenda?
Dope rap, we drop off crack they can't stand it

When I'm [unverified] when only we be gettin
'Em open like the 'Ville with this fresh rush
Show me on point in this game
'Cause fame plays well, and I raise well, so I raise hell

Yeah, go nigga, raise hell
Yo, yeah, raise hell
Go nigga, raise hell

Raise hell, it's another death wish, I guess it's time
To grip nines, to rip behind enemy lines, where it's ruthless
And get the troopers that think
It's somethin' sweet

M.O.P. niggaz was raised in the street, kid
Ain't nuttin' changed 'cause I'm rappin', I am a
I'll nigga and I still will bust my hammer
(Is he a gangsta?)

Blaze F A G's, I don't stress 'em
When I, catch 'em I stretch 'em I bless 'em
And let his momma dress 'em
The name's Bill, the game's real, me and Fame feel

We can blow trial, and yo I'm ill
So blow in your face
(Bla-bla-bla-blow)
To the death
(Buka-KLAK)
'Til there's nothin' left

I ain't gon' be playin' no games witchu frauds
Whenever the two guns bustin'
Just don't be trustin' this Drama Lord
(Take it to 'em son)
Yeah, we got a plan

And Billy Danze packin' more steel than Bugsy Moran
([Unverified])
To the terrible organization
It's the M.O.P.'s last generation
Who wanna confrontation?

It's hammer time
And I'm layin' on you to see me
(Is he a tough guy?)
Nah that's how they make him look on TV

Fake jerks I rattle
Snake chumps I saddle
And ride they ass
All the way to the bus without no truss

The hill-top, will-rock, non-stop
Squeeze glocks, at the motherfuckers son
He can't run, so I ain't gotta chase him
(Do you think you can take him?)
Take him then I back him down and lace him, raise hell

Raise hell
Hell, hell, go nigga raise hell
Raise hell
Go nigga raise hell

Mash Out Posse (M.O.P.) еще тексты