[Hook x2]
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Who could it be (who could it be)
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But that M double A-B (but that M double A-B)
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And we're sho nuff gon shine (and we're sho nuff gon shine)
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Making everybody lose their mind (everybody losing they mind)
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[Trae]
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The same niggaz on the block, wrecking it won't stop
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We bout to head to the top, cocked dropping the top
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With glocks ready to box, somebody bout to get dropped
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Fuck around with the Maab, you fin to get shined out
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Do you really, wanna fuck around wit us
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Come out of the trunk, with a AK with us
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Better watch out for brains, you got a one hitter quitter
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Nigga we the Southside, H-Town mob figgas
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Raw niggaz, on the block affiliated with drug dealers
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Go getters, and a hundred percent thug niggaz
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You don't wanna step to us, you getting hugged nigga
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On the microphone with flow, you get drugged nigga
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You better get somewhere, you can't block the shine
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I'm ready for any nigga, that wanna get out of line
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I'll tell you one mo' time, you better respect my mind
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When a red light shine, go and lay it down
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Who the niggaz that wanna talk down
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Who the bitch that wanna hate, I'm fin to sweat up they face
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Me and Doug and Ro, up on a paper chase
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Trying to get it like a fiend, with a top case
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In the race we done did that, candy blue
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In the lap, wearing a black hat fuck that
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Somebody fin to get done, till everybody be gon
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And nigga, we number one
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[Hook x2]
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[Dougie D]
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I'ma give it to you live, I'ma give it to you raw
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I ain't even fin to play, with you motherfuckers
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I'm a motherfucker, that'll be packing a glock
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Taking em out with red dots, I'm a head busta
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I'ma Maab out I'ma ride out, no doubt
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Making motherfuckers slide out, need to hide out
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Fuck around with the wrong nigga, pull the nine out
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Leave a motherfucker crispy, burned and fried out
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Does the Dougie give it out, mmm-hmm
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Like a nigga be smoking up on, good green fur
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Fucking em up in the first round, yes sir
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I'm just so cold, I make a nigga say burr
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Gripping a round, me and my dogs get bucked
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With the Lil' Cl'Che, still ready to get crunk
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We M double A-B, now little bitch what
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On a treaty the microphone, we ain't no punk
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Dougie D so thoed, and they already know
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The Trae and the J Z-Ro, the By-Bo
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Got a kin folk raw, that be gripping a gun
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I got a king folk right, that be dropping a bomb
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I got a click of motherfuckers, putting words on the run
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And when you thought it was over, nigga it just begun
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And when you hear this shit, nigga don't you bump
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When you feel you ready, nigga then come get some
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[Hook x2]
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[Cl'Che]
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Got em all asking, who could it be
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That Guerilla M double A-B, and C-L-C-H-E
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The classified lady, sho nuff
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Watch me shine up on the scene, make em all say their so thoed
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Sitting back on these hoes, that's trying to out do my flows
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And all I wanna do is get the key, and open the do'
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For my Southeastern pros, fuck it let's show em that we could
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Swang the 4's, I'm on a mission steady trying to get the cream
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Maab deep, with the KMJ killa team
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Doing things, making mo' money than you ever seen
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While you watching me, on your big screen
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BET or MTV, posters hanging at your local grocery
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Now everybody know me, Cl'Che make you lose your mind
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Everytime you jam a Maab c.d., the Classified's on your mind
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Southside I bring it to you live, so please don't underestimate me
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Or my niggaz Trae, Dougie D and Z-Ro sing the hook for me
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[Hook x2]
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[Z-Ro]
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Who could it be, blowing on doja
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Consuming codeine, cause I'm just a soldier
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That stays on his grind, chasing that feddy
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These fellas they ain't ready, they lightweight and I'm heavy
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The Mo City Don, king of the ghetto
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I keep dropping bombs, cause I just can't let go
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I'm thoed in the game, hydro or that do-do
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Catch Z-Ro in slow-mo, Z-Ro not no hoe thogh
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I swang and I swerve, like Tony Montana
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My balls are my word, come down your chimney like Santa
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And put you to bed, for talking down on a O.G
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Really though y'all don't know me, I will make you die slowly
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[Hook x3]
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-----------------
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Who Could It Be
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| Z-Ro |
