Testo Mob - Babyface Ray
Testo della canzone Mob (Babyface Ray), tratta dall'album FACE
You know what I'm sayin', baby? (Okay, KMoney)
We vibin' and shit, man
Don't get it fucked up though
Could never be that
Could never be that, man
Yeah
Ayy
I don't want you, I just wanna fuck you (yeah)
Let your nigga love you
He owe me 'cause I'm gettin' money, that's all you gettin' from me
She just wanna rock your chain just because your pendant flooded
Pray to God I make it off this shit 'cause all my niggas hustle (I gotta)
Niggas sending shots, but they don't never come direct (never)
I'm in the Rafs without the laces, but it's shoestrings on my TEC
I keep that Styro' on my right, but I spent blue cheese on my left
A hundred grams, it's fresh off the press, it's two G's on my belt
I'm exhausted, I'm fresh off the road, man
Groupies give me sex (come on)
I'm a boss, don't let 'em lie
They might confuse me with the help (they might)
Man, I'm cut from a different cloth
Yeah, I be drippin' sauce (yeah)
I might have to sit and map it out because these niggas lost
Advise you not to piss me off
One call and I can get you chalked (hello?)
Do it on my own 'cause niggas snitchin', that's what get you caught
I had a talk with God, gave me the torch and I'ma never change
I had a talk with bro like, "What's the profit?" We press everything
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Ayy
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Ayy
Got a nigga, bitch, why would I trust you? (Yeah)
Drive me to Kentucky
Turn you up, you might get lucky (you might)
Let her rock the buffies
Don't hate the player, hate the game, woah
I learned that from my uncle
Fuck the rappin', 'fore we had it poppin', had the traps, was jumpin'
Gotta get it, they won't feed you
Gotti, tell 'em, "Free you" (my nigga)
You the only one that seen it
We still here, no, I can't leave you
Like my wrist Patrón plat', catch me stuntin' out a beamer
They show love across the map, but just know this shit get evil
I got dollars on up, tote 'em like they legal (yeah)
Fuck her like she mine
Hear a car, get in them blinds (I'm gone)
Thuggin' in disguise
I thank God I beat the odds (thank God)
Stand on business, press the line
Give it all up to Siobhan
Doin' donuts in the Maz, donuts on the mob (yeah)
It get hot, they switch up sides (yeah)
It go up, then who gon' ride?
Screaming, "We the mob, free the mob," that's on everything
Lil' cuz clean him up for a dime, waves on every chain
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Ayy
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Ayy
Credits
Writer(s): Marcellus Rayvon Register, Kareem Devon Johnson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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