See.. most wanted.. its the epitome of this rap shit fuck yea
|
Get it.. m-r-dot.. m-a-n (we bring it to anybody that want it)
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B-double-o-n-i-c
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(Cause we real.. check the stats).. mista man.. boo-bonic
|
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(Chorus)
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What makes you a thug nigga
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The sounds of guns bustin adrenaline pumpin
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and don't give a fuck about nothin
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What makes you a killa
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The feelin that I get when I touch somethin
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or how I give it to anybody that want somethin
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What makes you a smart nigga
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How I got rid of the hammer..
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and got a one way ticket down to Atlanta
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What makes you a rich nigga
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The fact that I'm not a bitch nigga..
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I do it solo ain't worried bout a snitch nigga
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(Boo)
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I'm the one who can stand the hit and fry somethin
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Fuck rap you wanna see if I'm real? try somethin
|
A g-a-n-g-s-t-e-r we are known to leave a nigga in the E.R.
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B-double-o-n..-i-c nigga.. actionious style leave you in a creek nigga
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Teenager.. you ain't ever seen stranger
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Iced up cell phone triple A pager
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Ny blood boil.. easily hate cause agility freezin me hoes never teasin me
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Think I'm here to amuse you? I crack you the fuck up?
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I'll put out my steel and ill smack you the fuck up
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Thug baby.. I gotta head for the streets
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You gotta head for business well that's dead when we meet
|
Cause one shot ill have all your business in the streets
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Comin out slow like a fuckin loosely
|
Close your eyes gotta surprise I dare you to peep
|
I put the tec in your mouth now I dare you to speak
|
Niggas under pressure look they back sweatin
|
Try me? That's a gamble that lack bettin
|
|
(Chorus)
|
|
(Mr.)
|
Mister Man keep a clip wit 50 in it
|
Have ya clique like.. "That's between y'all we ain't in it"
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Wish my squad would say that we don't even play dat
|
Like you talk fly and all we jus lay back
|
Talkin about what you do to me nigga now why you say dat
|
My clique jet out rounds for y'all they don't play dat
|
All about loadin and cock and start spittin
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Here's somethin scream fuck y'all niggas and start dippin
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Hit the bar to relieve my stress and start sippin
|
And get outta town before the cops start trippin
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We don't play.. we don't care
|
I'll kill you.. right hand to god I swear
|
See myself on the run before I see any jail
|
Can't see myself callin home for bail
|
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(I promise you the pain is almost over one more verse motherfuckers)
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|
(Chorus)
|
|
(Mr.)
|
It only take one thing for mister man to come spark ya
|
If my doe light I got to make shit darker
|
Runnin.. leave you wit a wheel chair or a walker
|
Persuade me to chill? you must be a fly talker
|
You heard this before.. I'm in your crib waitin
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Two things for you.. glock no patience
|
Seese what beef? that shit means nathan
|
Thugs don't talk we just ride till we die
|
Drink till we drunk.. smoke till we high
|
Pop till it clack.. push wigs back
|
Put the gun in your mouth and say point where it's at
|
The ice wrist shit nigga come on about dat
|
(Aiyyo I love my kids mister!).. I don't doubt that
|
I gotta eat too nigga how about dat
|
For that ransome doe.. kids get kidnapped
|
Your wife act crazy wife get smacked
|
Your clique don't like it your clique get clapped
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or I cock back just to throw flames
|
In case you got a urge to snitch and drop names
|
Leave you open minded nigga wit no brains
|
Shame.. your man was slippin I shot 'em
|
Callin.. tellin my dog I got 'em
|
Hit 'em up top and work my way down bottom
|
Want it wit Mister Man? See nigga that's a problem
|
|
(Chorus) - repeat 'til fade
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-----------------
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What Makes Me
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| Philly`s Most Wanted |
