Verse 1: Mr. Mr. & (Boobonic)
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Yo, I'm two short of a brick, you two wit' me?
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(I got two O's and I'm bringin' two hoes wit' me)
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Look, don't bullshit me, scoop and come get me
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(Shit, I'll be there in ten unless the Feds come hit me)
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(I move like lightening, thats what I was told)
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we can't trust these niggas, keep it comin' in codes
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(we had a deal on the table since ten years old)
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was on Readyrock records, LP went gold
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(we had 36 groups, but they cooked up Nine)
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managed 28 groups, what they cooked was mines
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Niggas wanna act fly, we forced to hit 'em up
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(and we just sold y'all a brick in code, so nigga what).
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Chorus (Both)
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Bullets from the chrome, Feds tap my phone, look (y'all can't never hurt
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us)
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you'll fuck my bitch, shoot at my whole click, look (y'all can't never
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hurt us)
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'cause we'll shake the Feds, take ya bitch, money long, we got locked we
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appeal the shit
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bullets from the chrome, Feds tap my phone, look (y'all can't never hurt
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us)
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Verse 2: (Mr. Mr.)
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I pass through more bills than congress in D.C.
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stacks so thick you think you see 'em in 3-D
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if I'm outta town I phone home like E.T.
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drive a CE, try CL fever
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move plenty coke, got more spots than Cheetahs
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got heaters, ain't scared to pop neither
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shoot you, them three, and him too
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thats my procedure, fuck you gon' do?
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hustle for all C's, you don't even dig
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chick, car, chips, cold ass crib
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best man at that, I'm the rap Taye Diggs
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Most Wanted keep it lethal like Murtaugh and Briggs
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a nice banana clip, I'll split your wig
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I'm a gangsta, you scared to death ain't ya?
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carry more weight on boats than ten anchors
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Southwest playboy like Hugh Hefner
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I lied, and my bitch be out in one gesture
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cut coke open, give it a tongue tester
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face get numb it's good shit I'll bet ya
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jump out the Coupe, walk by and wet ya.
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Chorus
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Verse 3: (Boobonic)
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Nosey ass niggas don't believe shit stink
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'till I cock the glock and put two through his mink
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you loose with your lip? well, keep your vest tight
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357 Mag in a Jag S-Type
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don't talk me to death, you mothafuckas is just gettin' by
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while I'm rich bitch, just gettin' high
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you ain't on my level, you still admire skanks
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while I'm at Vic's Secret photo shoots with Tyra Banks
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and I'm not lyin', my advice is stop tryin'
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I bust big shit that'll never stop firin'
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catch me at the bar whether it's the clam, shark, or sky
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I hate when rat niggas start to lie
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dog, you don't got bricks
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I never seen you in the drop nor with a bitch
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you got your champaigne glass straight up, could tell you ain't never
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poured Cris'
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or bust a nigga with the Four-Fifth
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stop your bullshit.
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Chorus 4x
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Y'all Can't Never Hurt Us
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| Philly's Most Wanted |
