Rick Ross - Bout Mine lyrics

(Trick Daddy) b**h I'll k** ya, fo' night (Hook x2) I'm goin' all way out bout mine Best dat a b**h get shot bout mine Hoes get slapped in the mouth bout mine The prices stay the same and they drop bout mine (Verse 1, Money Mark) You f**s with T Double D then you f**s with we Now you runnin' round duckin' me Young n***a with a AK better than Ananda Lee I send them k**ers where ya mama be I be Money M to the izzay, R to the kizzay Come through choppin' ya block I don't plizzay Got dolo for the low, then hit the 2 Way Peace to Uncle Lisle I miss him everyday, hey Love dough and love to hate hoes Love to pull n***a bout mine lil' nose n***a tryna hold me back, I'm throwin' 'bows I'm a treal a** n***a, that's how sh** goes (Rick Ross) You can never f** with me, I'll just flow harder CL 6 sittin' low on those (?) I'm a Philly man, but I don't blow garbage Got sweet dick, most of these hoes got it Ain't no love, you see how the Feds do us Wanna eat like rust and some for tear Lucas Haul that blunt to a n***a share mucas Body on 'em so what, look up we had shooters (?) Take all tinted route Hand guns, razor blades comin' out of the mouth Borderline rapper, come see me but twin 49 rapper It's more to mine rapper Saw that rhyme after, yeah, got the right gat Eat with the 2 Way they scared to write back Lay n***as down like this? No like 'dat No whoever ran, make 'em come back like crack (Duece Poppi) You better worry bout you, don't worry bout me I pop three, out the drop-e I smoke brocoli, you know we got D Duece Poppi and T Double D We got them AK shells and they hot as hell Crackin' back to the white meat like lobster tails Poppin shells, quick to crack your breastbone Tore his head off 'cause he had his vest on 12 gauge, shoot ten times for haters n***as curlin' up like activators Fake a** thugs, stop with them lies You ain't rapped like that when 2Pac was alive (Hook x2) (Verse 2, Mystic) I'm not gonna f** with you n***a, 'cause I don't know you my n***a So don't you f** with me or my dogs n***a I'm for real about mine, and my dogs ready to k** bout mine I chill, smoke crip and send orders Off all those po-po's and armed forces, f** 'em They don't wanna see me fly, I don't trust 'em They probably wanna see me die, that why Hold the fire, and keep it closed and keep an open eye For them haters and hoes, 'cause I don't play about mine Goin' deep, pray about mine Know baby had to spray about mine, AK about mine f** that you've been warned too many times How you feel bout yours, n***a I'm ten times worse You gettin' revenge but n***a mine will get you cursed So please don't f** around with me 'Cause my dogs will bust around at he Whoever obsessed, me boy, don't test me boy Touch me, my dog'll wetcha boy (Trick Daddy) Most n***as get rich, get goats I went out and got guns, united my folks (my folks) Pour it out for the ones we lost, now b**h Throw it up 'fore I blow it up You ain't know I was a G muthaf**a You don't really wanna see me muthaf**a I'm a thug n***a, fo' life b**h I'll k** ya, fo' night I'm goin' all way out bout mine Best in a biscuit shot bout mine Hoes get slapped in the mouth bout mine Prices stay the same and they drop bout mine Runnin' in your grandmami house bout mine I ain't slippin', I got my nine Plus Duece got his, you better think twice b**h 'cause you got kids Plus, I know what you did, add that to the fact I know where you live Thug life and you know how it is sh** don't stop till a n***a get k**ed (k**ed, k**ed, k**ed, get k**ed) (Hook x2)