Testo Menensky Mobbin - Bizzy Bone
Testo della canzone Menensky Mobbin (Bizzy Bone), tratta dall'album Greatest Hits vol. 1
(Bizzy)
Menensky-muthafuckin'-Tribe mobbin' on muthafuckas
See, it's like the Menensky Mob, see
They used to be the ones who was fightin' the slave master
So the people didn't go on the boat, you know what I'm sayin'?
B-L-A-C-K-H-O-L-E
(Shit, smoke, can a black man get some paper up in this place, man?)
(But I'm a black man in a white man's world)
Fuck this shit
Oh, Menensky (Menesky!) mobbin'
Menensky mobbin', nigga
Oh, Menensky (Menesky!) mobbin'
Menensky mobbin', nigga
Oh, Menensky (Menesky niggas around the muthafuckin' world) mobbin'
Menensky mobbin', nigga
Oh, Menensky (Menensky!) mobbin'
Watts niggas with problems
And the? thugs are from the projects
smokin' chronic with love with the gun in the glove
Nigga run, nigga run, nigga run
Menensky mobbin' muthafucka!
(Bizzy)
Menensky mobbin' muthafucka with Watts niggas
In Cali ready to riot and rally around
brawlin' in my back door ready for warfare, declare like my Capo
? Gettin' wacko and smokin' tabacco
Yeah my niggas with tatoos, a sack of crack, and I'll pat you down too
My voodoo with that flip flop flow, don't make me blast you
Right past you with the mask on, bitch
Sippin' the passion, get it twisted mister bitchafied
This introduction bustin'
I'm bumpin' properly, property of my poverty, God we need a job
Clock me in my Saab, Menesky mobbin', bobbin' and weavin', no pron
You niggas' sloppy, don't copy, get popped, nigga don't jock me--you're raw
(Chorus)
Oh, Menensky mobbin'
(I'm tryin' to get high muthafucka')
Oh, Menensky mobbin'
(You're over here trippin' and shit, man what the fuck's wrong with you?)
Oh, Menensky mobbin'
Man, we mobbin' on niggas
You niggas can't fuck with me
Watts niggas with problems
And the? thugs are from the projects,
We smokin' chronic with love with the gun in the glove
Nigga run, nigga run, nigga run
(Bizzy)
Hock my Benz
Fuck a bitch for the babies and Christmas gifts
When I'm lifted ridin' down the strip: same niggas, the same shit
Workin' the graveyard shift back on Brackland where the broads flipped like a
movie
And my raw dogs trip in the line of duty
Look at the groupies, holler, holler, from the hoopties and my Lucciano's
groovy
Judge and jury my movie confuse me with those other thugs
On a high speed chase say
Say don't swerve in the mud, and the tight weed taste like love
We thuggish in Columbus slums, suburbs, muthafucka word
Sift through my proberbs
And I heard that we're rockin' up birds
When out in Florida and CaliforniaNew York, Little Pomona, shookin' soldiers
Smokin' doja, composure suppose
(Chorus)
Oh, Menensky mobbin'
(Menensky muthafuckin' mobbin')
Oh, Menensky mobbin'
Oh, Menensky mobbin'
(Watts niggas. With Watts with muthafuckin' problems, c'mon, c'mon)
Oh, Menensky mobbin
Watts niggas with problems
And the? thugs are from the projects
We smokin' chronic with love with the gun in the glove
Nigga run, nigga run, nigga run
(Bizzy)
Born to be?, crushin' crucial, not the conflict, and b-b-b-bomb shit
I'm on the chronic chokin' bubonic, harmonic
Eyes blood-shot red, loc'd out like Eazy--he dead, surprise
Fuck the Feds, fuck the bitches instead
Step in the bedroom, I'm about to get some head soon
She's wet in the womb
I'm kinda nast and mad at ya, but boom, it's till the sun up
What up, done up, shut up, it's all in the game, it shouldn't be painful
Well why the fuck I feel so much pain stressin' my brain?
Let the train pass, look at the sky, play, laugh
With visions back in May on how I played dad
Don't say that and criticize yourself, I'm'a tell the truth
Roof nigga from glock-glock, no truce, the punk enemies deadly
And shoot if you wanna
Smoke water, but you can die, bitch, it's normal
Eventually your number's called through the portal and muthafucka fall
Here's a quarter to call your dogs
Oh, Menensky mobbin'
(Nigga, Menensky mobbin' world-muthafuckin'-wide on these hoes, c'mon!)
Oh, Menensky mobbin'
Oh, Menesky mobbin', Watts niggas with problems
And the? thugs are from the projects
Whoo!
We're smokin' chronic with love and the gun in the glove
Credits
Writer(s): Bryon Mccane, Michael Bell, Harold Durrett
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