Yukmouth - Ral Mafia lyrics

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 d** 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 sh** f** a movie, the village We filled with chinese Essays, n***as, 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 sh** died But r Ride or die So high am i, n***a 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 n***a, my n***a 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 motherf**ers in the rapgame Rap-a-lot mafia, you ain't ready for what we got for ya I make a motherf**er doctor ya See, it ain't all about records We run the motherf**in' streets in houston, texas We mobilize and we been rated high Our adversaries die, when our pull a fry, bullets fly Like some motherf**in' blackbirds When we ride It's caskets and con words Mob n***a Verse 3: [t.l.t of the ghetto twiinz] f** 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 n***a yuk, look Somebody gon die You could took a try And kiss that a** goodbye You be found in your home n***a Head blown from that chrome f** with me, i'm livin' wrong n***a [t.l.t of the ghetto twiinz] n***a remember me I'm the one, gon get ya You better pray that god has switched ya f**in' round with the mafia You torn blood from you b**hes n***a what Bustin holes in you b**hes [mz. g.b. of the ghetto twiinz] You better wear you vest, real tight b**h The mafia gonna put it in you life b**h Ain't no motherf**er stoppin' up The only b**h puttin' it down with the mafia Rap-a-lot mafia Verse 4: [dmg of facemob] n***as sure wonder why i hang with these thugs Cause my n***a yuk f**in' these n***as up n***a, 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 n***as is gon die n***as come from the pound Hummers and s-s's Born to be a k**er Fill a n***a Body with holes Head the toe when he showed up Blow up your whole motherf**in' head, quote us And i'ma roll, with my n***as till the wheels fall Clean up the motherf**in' 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 b**h All day this thug sh** Blisted up, trigger fingers for n***as that start sh** Creep this as i part quick Ride dopefiend, will her with a tint Ak's and vest's Born in california, k**ed 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 n***a yuk We the mafia, squabble the gun Played out, droppin' ya Verse 7: [lo-life of the 5th ward boyz] We mob figgers We to take the whole world out At 50 states all black god After that, we still gon grind on the side To make your motherf**ers mind I pop the 9, you pop the 9 And all y'all motherf**ers dyin' We gon drive by We walk up and do these n***as out the game We sell 2 shot, and none left in the chain Cause it's rap-a-lot mafia man Is to be f**in' with man Watch who you talk to We k** If that's what it's brought down to Verse 8: [capone of facemob] Off with his motherf**in' head with the lead Dead leave his hilfiger shirt all real Said it's motherf**er locked in your spot Shot's will be dropped, right here, right now Paw, n***as all the way tugged down Town Ride around town showin' out Pounds City after city f**in' hoes Yours ain't a lot act like you know Capone with the city complete a**a**inater With paper, blow up a n***a sh** like sky pagers It's major, save a whole out of not Stop, if you think your feelin' fin popped Rap-a-lot can't stop, won't, don't stop And we did already hit the top Rap-a-lot can't stop, won't, don't stop And we did already hit the top Mob Verse 9: [lil' chylla of the snypaz] I be comin' through rages And n***as thinkin' i pissed off I'm itchin' to get my sick off I be trickin' them if they trick off All hands about to get kicked off [2-4 of the snypaz] n***a i got 'em f** up your body when the slugs touch down Runnin' up on me you feel it The realest and platinum bound With the n***a called yuk We brakin' bed and ballin Feds hollin' Bloody bodies with no heads And calling your momma n***a [lil' chylla of the snypaz] Yo, who the mob, feel her Rap-a-lot n***a Kick that john quicker I missed the bomb disher Flat the palms Money is in my figures [2-4 of the snypaz] With our triggers Snypaz be red dot n***as We the mafia and yuk sent your picture So we're droppin' [lil' chylla of the snypaz] Maybe you speakin' Role one k** each other, smoke some Po-po's pa** to folks some Rap-a-lot mafia known from Verse 10: [??] We put's limits on n***as We hold money over b**hes Let the whole world recognize the realest When it's bangin' rap-a-lot mafia The street's most popular Servin' your hood like helicopters Say the wrong thing and i'll slaughter ya Disrespect the mob, young catch punkin' heads Wishin' you was dead Layin in bed the next n***a what did i say To make these n***as act this way Rich thugs still got me muggs Just to remind a motherf**er, about where i was Nothin' but love from my thugs Get your paper cause We laugh and drink when we rich, black and know this spore n***a this rap-a-lot mafia Interlude: [j prince] You ain't gotta come from cranestreet 200 or circlepiece It's all about do you believe Rap-a-lot mafia life Rap-a-lot on the streets Verse 11: [scarface of the geto boys] Recognize the mob or get you a** mobbed on No love to ones who oppose We taggin' motherf**ers toes And we ain't even got a dresscode Just those, 1000 n***as infront of expo's Waitin' on the next goes So lets roll and lets go Ain't no sissy n***as survivin' If you don't come with them you got a problem Solve 'em, hit 'em with the .44 revolver Make an amount of what believe is right before his daughter Exactly like the doctor ordered Dressin' your homies up in church clothes You took the shot, that brought the black hoe And that's cold, but that's the motherf**in' thing Respect the mob and little j and the family name