Uh, uh, uh. Still ain't ready yet.
|
Uh, uh, uh. Niggaz still ain't ready yet.
|
Uh, uh, uh.
|
|
Verse 1 *(Swoop G)*
|
|
I hits the corner on three Daytonaz
|
wit a bad ass bitch brought up in Gardena, California
|
Uh, she started tuggin, an rubbin on the Swoop
|
I'm wastin my drink swervin in my rag 6-duce
|
uh, you didn't know I keep it real from head to toe
|
I hit that savings and loans when I was just a baby loc
|
went to Mexico, traded it for the pecos
|
came back to California now it's time to roll
|
I was 16 mane, sellin quarter keys of dank
|
my uncle was a balla from around the way
|
so I had the hook up
|
whole keys I cooked up
|
now all my niggaz, makin major figgaz.
|
|
Verse 2 *(Yukmouth)*
|
|
Mobb shit, the type of shit you out committin a lick
|
pistol whip them nigga to death and have a kick
|
and the twist cuz niggaz be havin shit
|
like bitches on Set It Off, dank
|
niggaz be sniffin dark bank
|
mission accomplished boss crack
|
hard or soft livin boys and girls packin yo shit
|
let it off
|
niggaz who floss out here be takin a loss
|
it cost to be the mutha fuckin Boss Playa
|
talks to throw away gats in the air
|
for makin yo scratch like that there Boss Playa
|
niggaz beware
|
the ganga-gangsta type of Luni hoolum atmosphere
|
fo rappin about the clothes you wear, I represent welfare
|
no happy-happy, joy-joy
|
it's these boys,
|
runnin from decoys, pimpin mo bitches than Dr. Detroit
|
it goes down
|
Mr. Smoke-A-Lot turnin pounds into ashes
|
black ski maskes
|
niggaz be gettin the pumpkin head like Cashus Clay
|
the Yay
|
Area smoke greenery malacious all day
|
eh, eh blaze.
|
|
Verse 3 *(Keek The Sneek)*
|
|
Back in the days, when I was raised
|
niggaz got sprayed wit A's and K's
|
I prayed to my Lord that head won't take
|
me over, we soldiers to fold ya like Motorola's
|
and hit the corners
|
I told ya the 4-4 flow will fuck yo face and leave you frozen
|
bitch you was chosen,
|
that's how it's goin the Mobb fa sho-ness
|
mo killaz and shady niggaz to keep the click-ulation flawless
|
fuck all that other
|
bury yo brother
|
leave yo family mad at the fact the Mobb took me under.
|
|
Verse 4 *(Bart)*
|
|
Bash 'em other sucka, likely struck wit G's
|
for tryin to brace,
|
cough drops laced and you'll be laid out stunned by zae's
|
place the cover in a maced
|
ATF lookin for this arsonist, lettin off conscience
|
hot traces, suicide so you really can't fuck this
|
bringin mo heat than Rapper Bernard
|
lookin, micro woof tickets, bout how much to kick it that nigga hard
|
oh, from a sucka
|
fo them niggaz that press they luck there
|
in a game fucka
|
paralyzed caught one in the ass, punk ass
|
couped up in an send 'em, an jive
|
make niggaz remember the Mobb
|
them other niggaz ain't no kiddin 'em
|
an it best be a bounce off Mista, Mista
|
hit ya, get ya, split ya
|
that's how we shit ya.
|
|
Verse 5 *(Cydal)*
|
|
Parafanalia to some Mobb members unpredicable
|
niggaz get dropped, we call the shots, smashed on sumpthin pitifull
|
they see us comin they clear the block, our faces unforgetable
|
the world is a ghetto, and life is a plot
|
I'm surrounded by nimphos
|
givin up info
|
on where you hide yo doe an indo
|
guess what you in for
|
you bout to find out
|
that shit we in, we all contenders
|
you don't know, you seen a nigga jumpin through yo window
|
don't even trip
|
I confiscate this money in the name of the Mobb
|
it's on yo bitch
|
we'll juss pistol whip this nigga to a coma
|
jump in the get away ride and hit the corner
|
yo bitch juss got mopped (the Mobb is gonna)
|
yo bitch juss got mopped (the Mobb is gonna)
|
|
Verse 6 *(Ager Man)*
|
|
Get ready to get yo gats out niggaz
|
fo all you wacked out niggaz
|
bitch made batched out niggaz
|
jaw jacked out niggaz
|
I'm not gonna to patch out niggaz
|
these niggaz don't really give a funk about yo snitch ass
|
never in yo life met a gat that blast on the streets at a lame ass
|
bitch ass nigga
|
no cash gettin-er
|
hustlin pretendin to be a gangsta
|
switch hittin ass, nigga too late
|
he wanted his boy to get dumped in wit a 4 chrome that nigga ain't
|
dumpin on nothin
|
must be runnin, and duckin and dodgin in buckets
|
| then shittin up in |
