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M.O.P.

4 Alarm Blaze

  hip-hop  rap  hardcore rap  hip hop  new york
636 3 часа назад

Текст песни M.O.P. - 4 Alarm Blaze

M.O.P. - 4 Alarm Blaze слова песни




Lil Fame:Seventy-five Raised on a strip called here brotha hill Where guns pop and cops get killedThis is the place where paranoya Destroyin niggas cash cases mo try to flash they lawyersWere losin itFour fives and knives we be movin witCaught up in the things that the street game confused you witWere provin it Let it be known if retaliationHome-skillet - its onThat rap nigga bust a cap nigga flat nigga Open up your back nigga Rosewood black niggaFirst family gone brawlIts presidents resident, and Im the first dogYou know the M.O.P statusIn the history of crime and rap we some the baddestWord to the mommy Any fool try meGet hit wit the LlamaFuck cuminanaChorus - Teflon and Lil Fame: 2XIts a 4 alarm blazeEverybody post up next to the stageCome onYoure all welcome to hells roadwayFirst family styleBuck ass wildWhat ya say Billy Danze:Get ya man on the jack soldierGrip your mac soldierFIRST FAMILYWere back soldierAnd we have swam through the Brownsville sewersThe last on the line of our kind CRIME DOERSBurkowitz MOB STYLESpit fire from my hammer like I wasnt Gods childCrucify me - but dont deny meOr get slit bitch you couldnt slip nothin by meTry me and Ill pop shots like Im supposed toIm from the field where the covers are unnoticableIve noticed a few niggas wantin my headUsed my smarts and my secret all are firin lead (Fire ya lead)With all intentions of droppin a body Im usually nervous so Im flinchin when I enter the partyTHE BROWNSVILLE NECTARThat bullshitJust when you thought it was safe I flipped and hit em wit more shitChorus 2X:Teflon: Introducin the best kept secret Its no sweet shit I sleep wit green beretBlaze enemies frequent I speak wit authority(Black) Perhaps through four to be Cap quarterly blazed till its quiet and orderlyThe gunsmoke make son soak The smoke run through the barrel until the gun chokeRaised cold-hearted and deadly Survive wit a nickel-plated tool and jewels old-timer done fed meKeep my grip steadySqueeze till they drop offMake sure all other guns are popped off as heavyBlowin some high-tech shitThrough your projectsMakin whatever was in my way easy to di-tectI wrecks guys Over money gone Saratoga son be in a Columbian necktieWe dont respects by Half-ass niggasBlast niggasGas niggas who wont blast The sect dieAll: 2XJust when you thought it was safeThe mad shell posse hit you off wit another tasteUh (Uh) Uh (Uh) Uh (Uh ) Uh (Uh)Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah)Jay-Z:Yeah, uh-huh, what the fuckTwo asked quick for bastards to step to Leave wounds too drastic for rescueWhen I rock jewels it aint to impress you What the fuck niggas commentin on my shit foIm real - how you think I got rich ho?Pack steel - aint afraid to let a clip goI got enough paper to get lowCome back when the shit blow over get the dough overHuh wit the Rover snatch the gat from the clip holderRip through ya shoulder bitch its Jay-hovahIm too right wit it, too tight wit itYou light witted but if youre feel ya nice nigga spit itWho am I?JAY-Z MOTHAFUCKADo or dieIN BROWNSVILLE MOTHAFUCKABlocka, rocka, M.O.P collaboFront on us and gats blow ya know?Chorus: 2X

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