Rick Ross Feat. Ja Rule, The Game & Fat Joe - Mafia Music (50 Cent Diss) | Текст песни

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• Rick Ross Feat. Ja Rule, The Game & Fat Joe
• Mafia Music (50 Cent Diss)

[Intro: The Game]
Yeah! Maybach Music! Born again we livin

[Verse One: The Game]
Who stack cheddar better than the rat killer
That nigga that bust gats quicker and he throw back liquor
The mafia way, toast it up like Sopranos
And when it's snowin, I push it like pianos
Back in the Lambo like I was born with it
Makavelli prophecy shoot up the car I'm goin with it
From the cradle to the grave on these twenty two's
Before I take my last breath I let the semi's loose
If there's heaven for a nigga with a crucifix
So much ice in it, mix the O and Gin and Goose with this
B-O- double S that's my nigga Ross!
And I'm his Cali connect, cause I can get it 'cross
Used to put ducks in the bathroom watch that bitch float
Couple years past now it's keys on the big boat
Take a shortcut 'round the Pacific
Throw the acre in Atlantic that's mafia livin

[Verse Two: Ja Rule]
Guess who's bizack? Yeah, nigga you guessed
Who shot ya, I spit murder, the music is mafia
The swag's incomp-arable, but that just's comparison
Impossible, like yo' dead-on move
And I drip off the spoon, infectious to hoods
And one cold afternoon, you'll get shot at your home
Now +I Smell Pussy+, pussy got lips
But it don't talk to me, that's why you my bitch
And you on my dick (ah-ha!)
'Cause I fucked ya up once, fucked ya up twice
And you still talkin shit ('PREME, NIGGA!!)
What must I do to get through to you?
Curly, get off my dick, 'fore that ch-ch-ch-chi-chopper
Get ta pah-pah-pah-pah-poppin off of niggaz that been mouthin off
Read in between the lines when you hear me talk
Go and get out of line - this is Rule York

[Verse Three: Fat Joe]
Thug nigga 'till I die, and I ain't even try
See the murder in my eyes, nigga,fuck the other side
I don't give a fuck! I will burn your jheri curls
Yayo is his bottom bitch, Banks is a girlie-girl
Don't worry 'bout Whoo Kid, Macho smacked his face in
Lighty threw the towel and begged Pistol not to drape him
I meant (?), don't let me catch Nelson
I done spoke to God, man, He can't even help him, help him
Big up -- to Maybach Music!
Got them choppers man, don't make us use it!
Hits out the park, they call me Big Papi
Even if you shot me, you still couldn't stop me
Still went to Africa, still wore the big chain
Where you got robbed at? Nigga, on the same stage!
I say the shit that you can't say
'Cause I am not a snitch, I ain't bitch-made

[Verse Four: Rick Ross]
David beat Goliath..
"The meek will inherit the earth.." [Matthew 5:5]
Deeper...

Triple black Benz, Lord, forgive me for my sins
I put hits on all you niggaz, includin some old friends
Money come and go, but the trill will remain
Bitch, I keep it real like I'm still dealin 'caine
Realest shit I wrote and I put this on this quote
Befo' I had a flow, I had a kilogram of coke
Money on the flo', twenty homies on the books
Fat mob boss but I'm runnin wit the crooks
No need for a vest, that'll suffocate the flesh
I'm Martin on the balcony anticipatin death (death!)
Let the rifles sing, 'cause "I have a dream"
My Coretta Scott-King in the tub fulla cream
Pink champange seem to take away the pain
While the blue hollow points penetratin all the lames (lames)
Money ain't a thang - bitch, that's a lie!
It only controls every bitch that's alive
Money manifests, haters gotta die (die!)
Tia never +Told+ you that dat motherfucker rides
Niggaz takin sides, crack smokin wives
Crackin crabs at the tables, count the cash, crack the wine
Snakes gotta feel it, beef never squashed (never)
This time I'm embark on my Million Man March
I'm unorthodox, name me the victor
In the suite wit Shaniq

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