Yukmouth - Ral Mafia Lyrics
Verse 1:[yukmouth]I live the life of a hoolerTake ten pagesTurn around and shoot emConcrete buddaWe threw em in the creak to loose emStreets polluted with drugsSalute em with thugsWe used toSleep on a rugA momma never said she lovedOr hugged usIts just us, me and my two sistersIm too whooshesPlus new bushesWith .22s up in the bushesWe ride, gsMenace to societiesThe real shit***** a movie, the villageWe filled with chineseEssays, niggas, cambodiansOr go against the policeThugged out like napoleanGrab the milli, from my belly, catch new wellySlugs in your pelle pelle, smell meSince makaveli died, its like the westcoast shit diedBut rgime be the realest shit aliveRide or dieSo high am i, nigga you cant tell from the eyesBlood shot redThe feds gettin bread from the piesWiseguys cops risk lay-off to stay off the blockTransportin drop the yay offYou paid off the topSmoke-a-lot popular on the lockFor flippin birds like nadiaMafia, rap-a-lot mafiaVerse 2:[willie d of the geto boys]My nigga, my niggaIm here to say toYou try to tell itCan even spell itIts about respectFor God knows you was talking tooAnd the slap cameWe be the realest mother*****ers in the rapgameRap-a-lot mafia, you aint ready for what we got for yaI make a mother*****er doctor yaSee, it aint all about recordsWe run the mother*****in streets in houston, texasWe mobilize and we been rated highOur adversaries die, when our pull a fry, bullets flyLike some mother*****in blackbirdsWhen we rideIts caskets and con wordsMob niggaVerse 3:[t.l.t of the ghetto twiinz]***** peaceSee its all about violencePut that tek to you silentLeave you howlinIma creep upon ya (yeah)Ima put it on ya (who)Drop bombs on ya like they did in oklahoma[mz. g.b. of the ghetto twiinz]See ones that nigga yuk, lookSomebody gon dieYou could took a tryAnd kiss that ass goodbyeYou be found in your home niggaHead blown from that chrome***** with me, Im livin wrong nigga[t.l.t of the ghetto twiinz]Nigga remember meIm the one, gon get yaYou better pray that God has switched ya*****in round with the mafiaYou torn blood from you *****esNigga whatBustin holes in you *****es[mz. g.b. of the ghetto twiinz]You better wear you vest, real tight *****The mafia gonna put it in you life *****Aint no mother*****er stoppin upThe only ***** puttin it down with the mafiaRap-a-lot mafiaVerse 4:[dmg of facemob]Niggas sure wonder why I hang with these thugsCause my nigga yuk *****in these niggas upNigga, this rap-a-lot, mafia till I dieWhy? because we rideEveryday do or dieRiffles and .45s17-shot 9sRight up between your eyesNiggas is gon dieNiggas come from the poundHummers and s-ssBorn to be a killerFill a niggaBody with holesHead the toe when he showed upBlow up your whole mother*****in head, quote usAnd ima roll, with my niggas till the wheels fallClean up the mother*****in carAnd in this room we bring the world warVerse 5:[007 of the 5th ward boyz]See the circlepiece be the satellite>from the 5th wardCommand union, how we do it, how we do it>from the southTexas roll real, swing wide knock em outDouble 0 and yuk worldwide what you talkin aboutSee the .45s, see the big facesCatchin murder cases, hood erasersPaper chasersWith the 98, sittin on steakesBallin in the bay with the tek to placeVerse 6:[e-rock of the 5th ward boyz]Recognize the mob *****All day this thug shitBlisted up, trigger fingers for niggas that start shitCreep this as I part quickRide dopefiend, will her with a tintAks and vestsBorn in california, killed down in texasOhoh, slow your roll here come the po-posAnything can happen ridin through execution capitalE-rock the stupid fo, whos ridin with this nigga yukWe the mafia, squabble the gunPlayed out, droppin yaVerse 7:[lo-life of the 5th ward boyz]We mob figgersWe to take the whole world outAt 50 states all black godAfter that, we still gon grind on the sideTo make your mother*****ers mindI pop the 9, you pop the 9And all yall mother*****ers dyinWe gon drive byWe walk up and do these niggas out the gameWe sell 2 shot, and none left in the chainCause its rap-a-lot mafia manIs to be *****in with manWatch who you talk toWe killIf thats what its brought down toVerse 8:[capone of facemob]Off with his mother*****in head with the leadDead leave his hilfiger shirt all realSaid its mother*****er locked in your spotShots will be dropped, right here, right nowPaw, niggas all the way tugged downTownRide around town showin outPoundsCity after city *****in hoesYours aint a lot act like you knowCapone with the city complete assassinaterWith paper, blow up a nigga shit like sky pagersIts major, save a whole out of notStop, if you think your feelin fin poppedRap-a-lot cant stop, wont, dont stopAnd we did already hit the topRap-a-lot cant stop, wont, dont stopAnd we did already hit the topMobVerse 9:[lil chylla of the snypaz]I be comin through ragesAnd niggas thinkin I pissed offIm itchin to get my sick offI be trickin them if they trick offAll hands about to get kicked off[2-4 of the snypaz]Nigga I got em***** up your body when the slugs touch downRunnin up on me you feel itThe realest and platinum boundWith the nigga called yukWe brakin bed and ballinFeds hollinBloody bodies with no headsAnd calling your momma nigga[lil chylla of the snypaz]Yo, who the mob, feel herRap-a-lot niggaKick that john quickerI missed the bomb disherFlat the palmsMoney is in my figures[2-4 of the snypaz]With our triggersSnypaz be red dot niggasWe the mafia and yuk sent your pictureSo were droppin[lil chylla of the snypaz]Maybe you speakinRole oneKill each other, smoke somePo-pos pass to folks someRap-a-lot mafia known fromVerse 10:[? ? ]We puts limits on niggasWe hold money over *****esLet the whole world recognize the realestWhen its bangin rap-a-lot mafiaThe streets most popularServin your hood like helicoptersSay the wrong thing and Ill slaughter yaDisrespect the mob, young catch punkin headsWishin you was deadLayin in bed the nextNigga what did I sayTo make these niggas act this wayRich thugs still got me muggsJust to remind a mother*****er, about where I wasNothin but love from my thugsGet your paper causeWe laugh and drink when we rich, black and know this sporeNigga this rap-a-lot mafiaInterlude:[j prince]You aint gotta come from cranestreet200 or circlepieceIts all about do you believeRap-a-lot mafia lifeRap-a-lot on the streetsVerse 11:[scarface of the geto boys]Recognize the mob or get you ass mobbed onNo love to ones who opposeWe taggin mother*****ers toesAnd we aint even got a dresscodeJust those, 1000 niggas infront of exposWaitin on the next goesSo lets roll and lets goAint no sissy niggas survivinIf you dont come with them you got a problemSolve em, hit em with the .44 revolverMake an amount of what believe is right before his daughterExactly like the doctor orderedDressin your homies up in church clothesYou took the shot, that brought the black hoeAnd thats cold, but thats the mother*****in thingRespect the mob and little j and the family name
