M.o.p. - Y'all Don't Wanna f** lyrics

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M.o.p. - Y'all Don't Wanna f** lyrics

[Styles] My style's louder than a stereo Fouler than the snake when I k** these f**in rappers Then show up at the burials I don't mean to worry y'all, but I want y'all gone and This M-16 is the only way to hurry y'all Here's my last proposition, I'm treatin rap like crack If I don't sell the most, I gotta k** the competition Don't take it personal Gotta go to jail and if I come back and don't have my cash Then I'm hurtin you Got a business gun, wit industry bullets When it hit you motherf**er guaranteed it be jerkin you Rings is so my contact will break up your man I'm a gentleman, my contract's a shake of a hand I make it hard so, only God could wake up your man Cuz I do things the Don way It's Paniro the Ghost, Goodfella like, f**ing Jim Conway Leave no evidence f** a dead man, when I can leave off the scene wit dead presidents What, motherf**er, yeah [HOOK: Styles and M.O.P.] Don't you ever try to f** wit M.O.P. and Styles BUCKAH-BUCKAH-BU-BUCKA-BU-BUCKA-BUCKA-BLAOW!!! This is for the hood and n***as that's wild BUCKAH-BUCKAH-BU-BUCKA-BU-BUCKA-BUCKA-BLAOW!!! If you 'bout to die or you blowin the trial BUCKAH-BUCKAH-BU-BUCKA-BU-BUCKA-BUCKA-BLAOW!!! We're gangsta a** n***as that been flowin awhile BUCKAH-BUCKAH-BU-BUCKA-BU-BUCKA-BUCKA-BLAOW!!! [Billy Danze] Ayo let's do it for the hood Where there's alotta homicides at Where k**ers ride at, and OG's reside at It's rugged son, I love it son I see it every day f** that, we'll find another way to play So don't mistake me for no rap artist Missin old dude is from the old school He abide by the old rules And our pro-tools, is 38 longs The crime rate will inflate, and the murder rate is strong How could we get along And you doing this underhanded f*ggot sh**, you f*ggot b**h We gotta get you gone, [chapter one] William Danze songs All disloyal guys should be shot in they back Once, and left paralyzed [game over now] You gon change me how What you thought would happen When they chained me to Fame and Styles You ask in the hood about it, all it can be is L! M! O! O! X! P! motherf**er! [Fame] You keep thinkin when I flow pa, it's a wrap But when your a** get beat wit a crowbar, it's a wrap For real, we straight thug it Read my palms, you see more chapters than L. Ron Hubbard Huh, we done dealt more d** than Genovese Made dope fiends outta school principals and deans Now they all f**ed up, career finished Got they a** noddin in front of the Methodon clinics We thug it all day, but it ain't the Henny in me It's that Brownsville sh** wit a splash of trinny in me All I need is a hammer, and a clip load I'll stomp, do whatever, state, borough, zip code It's the M.O.P.! mashin through your ghetto Rippin heavy metal, [we ruff ryde] wit Paniro Listen up, y'all better respect the criminal sh** of these OG's What's poppin n***a [HOOK] [Styles] We can beef I don't give a f** Cuz if you k** me, I got n***as that'll bend up your son It's the world's most gutterest Paniro the Ghost, they thought of me when they invented the gun To tell the truth I prefer the knife Cuz he physical n***a I go in your chest I show you how to murder right It's deep, I'mma k** your mother And I don't care if I die Cuz all that mean is that I gonna join my little brother Dog, I had a hard life And I'm in love with the pain Thug in the game wit h**n and hard white Back to the guns the way I squeeze off threes off Leave a hole in your stomach, take a n***a knees off Face gets splattered around, too many cops for the Glock f** it dog, then I'm battin you down Don't you ask me what's happenin now This ain't a rerun, n***as see P gun, I'm clappin you clowns, what YOU DON'T WANNA TOUCH THIS It's Paniro the Ghost, Goodfella like f**ing Jim Conway YOU DON'T WANNA TOUCH THIS It's Lil Fizzy wit that Brownsville sh** and splash of trinny in me YOU DON'T WANNA TOUCH THIS Bill, 38 long, the crime rate will inflate and the murder rate is strong YOU DON'T WANNA TOUCH THIS

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