M.o.p. - Guns N Roses Lyrics
[chorus]Guns n roses, hit em hit em up kid!Guns n roses, hit em hit em up kid!Guns n roses, hit em hit em up kid!Guns n roses, hit em hit em up![lil fame]Whenever a nigga bleed, it lead to guns n rosesAnd a real nigga knows isEverybody that have held had shot oneIts like a *****, cause everybodys got oneNiggaz is gettin kinda boldLittle shorties thirteen years old, tryin to leave a nigga coldIm packin my gat, and watchin my back, and ready for oneYou niggaz wanna jump up, cause I aint goin out like willie (? )[billy danze]I propose a toast (yeah) next nigga that play me closeIma have your faggot ass hangin off a lamp post(salute!) to my nigga that slid and did bids(rest in peace) to them niggaz that slipped and caught clips kidIts yo play on the blessingsMe I send your maggot ass back to the essenceNiggaz have told ya, guns n roses thats the pathSo pack yo gat and watch yo ass[chorus][lil fame]Guns n roses, no one opposes the mash out posseYou cant stop meIm packin blue steel steppin with my weapon waitin for the rumbleIm trouble, step into the concrete jungleFoesll hear the words from the reverandAnd caught hell *****in with fame, so now they ass gotta go to heavenI fear no man, and I aint omar eppsBut Im lettin mother*****ers know the programToo many mother*****ers died on the streetThats why I tell mother*****ers to back up and play me feetJust the other day I put my man in the ground, so nowI walk around with the mother*****in trey-poundJust for my enemies so I can blow they chest inCause smith and wessonll have your whole family stressinAnother basket, casket closinThey put away the guns, then here come the mother*****in rosesTags are promptly placed on your toesYoure just another nigga dead, gotta go, gotta goThe game is called survival when you play it to the endBefore you go out in a blaze, may the best man win[chorus][billy danze]Another mother*****in massacre, yeah, m.o.p.Dese are the niggaz that Im movin with gTo you snake-ass, two-faced ass niggazYou gon make me grip and squeeze my shitLifestyles of a ghetto childGun over rose, choose your weapon or pick your poseOne or the other nigga, no doubtYou know the way the mother*****in story turns outOnly your life or youre chancinMe I got a record like my man charles mansonBill puttin niggaz on chill, you know the dealQuicker than a mother*****in hit man will(another mother*****in cadillac)Yeah, another mother*****ers family dressed in blackWhatever must be must beMe I try to keep my shit a little low-keySee, cause you dont know how it feelsEverytime a nigga get killed they try to link that shit to billMostly because I never of (kid they tryin to herb ya)I aint doin time for no *****in murderMad brothers done died on the streetI know its crazy mother*****ers that barely sleepThe color red from a hot hollow piece of leadSalute the world and then nod your head[chorus] - (repeat to fade)
