Yeah! Yeah!
|
Go nigga, raise hell!
|
Yeah! Yeah!
|
Raise hell!
|
Yeah! Yeah!
|
Go nigga, raise hell!
|
|
[Verse One: Lil' Fame]
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The new single, kid get your shit mixed
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Catch this new slug from the M.O.P. hitlist
|
It's thorough for the cars, for the clubs, for the Jeeps
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(For the fellas on the corner posted up 20 deep)
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Hold it down! Home Team back out to sail this
|
Make 'em collapse with caps and Fame make 'em famous
|
The "Downtown SWinger" gun slingers rock wild
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And when I die, I won't be puttin out flames in hell
|
Cop a 10 milli from the corner store Arab
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Fools with truck jewels get stuck for they karats
|
Hold on you hear somebody comin, you hear somebody gunnin
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Them niggaz that you run with is runnin
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Cause it's (BULLETS OVER BROWNSVILLE!)
|
I'm from the place where trey-pounds and fo-pounds kill
|
Fool how that sound? (ILL!)
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The star vendor, bend 'em like car fenders
|
Serve 'em like bartenders, what's next on the agenda?
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Dope rap, we drop off crack, they can't stand it
|
When I'm {?} when only we be gettin 'em open like the 'Ville
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With this fresh rush, show me on point in this game
|
cause Fame plays well, and I raise well, so I raise hell!
|
|
[Chorus]
|
Yeah, go nigga, raise hell!
|
Yo, yeah, raise hell!
|
Go nigga, raise hell!
|
|
[Verse Two: Billy Danze]
|
Raise hell, it's another death wish, I guess it's time
|
To grip nines, to rip behind enemy lines
|
Where it's ruthless, and get the troopers
|
that think it's somethin sweet
|
M.O.P. niggaz was raised in the street, kid
|
Ain't nuttin changed cause I'm rappin, I am a
|
ill nigga and I still will bust my hammer
|
(Is he a gangsta?) Blaze F-A-G's I don't stress 'em
|
When I, catch 'em I stretch 'em I bless 'em
|
and let his momma dress 'em
|
The name's Bill, the game's real, me and Fame feel
|
we can blow trial, and yo I'm ill
|
So blaow in your face! (Bla-bla-bla-blaow) to the death
|
(Buka-bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-KLAK) 'til there's nothin left
|
I ain't gon' be playin no games witchu frauds
|
Whenever the two guns bustin just don't be trustin this Drama Lord
|
(Take it to 'em son!) Yeah we got a plan, and
|
Billy Danze packin more steel than Bugsy Moran{?}
|
To the terrible organization, it's the M.O.P.'s last generation
|
Who wanna confrontation?
|
It's hammer time and I'm layin on you to see me
|
(Is he a tough guy?) Nah that's how they make him look on TV
|
Fake jerks I rattle, snake chumps I saddle
|
And ride they ass all the way to the bus without no truss
|
The Hill-top, will-rock, non-stop
|
Squeeze-glocks, at the motherfuckers son
|
He can't run, so I ain't gotta chase him
|
(Do you think you can take him?)
|
Take him then I back him down and lace him, raise hell!
|
|
[Chorus]
|
Raise hell!
|
Hell, hell, go nigga raise hell!
|
Raise hell!
|
Go nigga raise hell!
|
|
-----------------
|
Raise Hell
|
| M.O.P. |
