Sizzla - Mafia Music III lyrics

[Produced by Bink!] [Verse 1: Rick Ross] My corner so polluted, young n***as looting I studied Kenneth Williams, I'm one hell of a student Remarkable hustle, my n***as coming home I kept the candle lit, my n***a never rowed n***as caught him slipping, gave him a sh** bag Five shots to the stomach, 2Pac gift pack It's d**h row, conspiracy theories Concealed indictments handed to the grand jury Get some money now, you hated by your own kind The home invasion done by n***as in your bloodline GABOS, game ain't based on sympathy So he put a hit on his cousin and auntie Her sweet potato pies, oh me, oh my Showing no remorse, watchin the others cry Heroin sales, detectives'll sell A lot of yellow tape, where that Obama care? This the mob, b**h, silk underwear Yeezy concerts, Kim Instagrams n***as hating, though they studied my moves I'm like Farrakhan, in view of hundreds of Jews Two attempts on my life, they threatened venues Can't you see what I am? The hustle continue I bought more j**els, I ordered the Wraith I got a new style of shoes, match the watch in the face Bill Belichick, coaching and calling the shots Throw a yellow flag, p**y n***a body drops Then we celebrate, black bottles pop Time to elevate, we re-open shop Wale a genius, Meek Mill a superstar My new crib in Phoenix, ten car garage Patek Philippe, platinum Audemars Ain't no tags needed, n***a, I own them cars I know them b**hes, we met them broads Never loved one, f**ed them all I'm a f**ing dog, Ricky f**ing Ross n***a, Birkin bags just for my runner-ups But my main b**h she get the main dish Not the old range, that was a lame b**h Brazilian weave, she say I came quick I let her see a hundred ki's, a gift from St. Nick Moving bricks like it's Black Friday She gotta f** me or call me a fat crybaby Looking over my shoulder, I can't trust a soul Bought a spot in Anguilla just for me and my ho Glock .40, even when I shower Chrome .22 in my swimming towel Mob ties and I pray the music set me free May the powers that be better let me be [Hook: Mavado] Ya better not be around when the sun goes down And the real, real k**ers them out for ya It's gonna be be a bloodshed One buss, one dead, it's gonna be a bloodshed Gun- gunshot inna head [Verse 2: Mavado] Payback is a motherf**er Yes I feel it when I squeeze the trigger I feel the air when my enemies die I feel the strength of ten k**er What is to be will be Only God alone can k** me ‘Cause these f**ing streets filthy And I ain't f**ing guilty [Verse 3: Sizzla] Gangsta no take no chat from no guy, know why? Violate a gangsta and bullets fly, bwoy die Guns go off, or so we say Murder, action, anywhere Gangsta no take no chat from no guy, know why? Violate a gangsta and bullets fly, bwoy die Guns go off, or so we say Murder, action, anywhere [Hook: Mavado] [Outro: Sizzla] Sizzla Kolanji and Rick Ross have the girls them screaming Entire country, every street lab, you already know the meaning [?] you can't diss me you must be dreaming Jamaicans, let them know we carry the team in