The Diplomats - 40th Boys lyrics
Its scram jones n***a Yea, a-mafia n***a 40th boys Its dipset Purple city, duke the god Ayo yall know how the f** we do this sh** (chorus x2) Ayo Now all my real n***as pop it off Shoot em until his top come off I'm gettin money so, i gotta floss Cause im the boss When i come out, the thugs come out Stomp him out, till the blood come out He frontin, let a slug come out I'll show you what a thug about (a-mafia) Yo I see his face tightnin But i aint with the face fightin Try to imitate tyson He gonna taste lightin(that fire n***a) I see some gangstas on my right and the left of me Keep the tech on me Black gloves and a vest on me Our jesus resurected Tv's in the lexus Breezy's wanna s** us Freezy on the necklace Its mafia (where) A-mafia here Throw your hands in the air for a-mafia yea I start rumbles when i come through Go bundle for bundle(pack for pack n***a) I got some k**as that'll come through and slump you I hear them mumble, about the coke they got Till them n***as ran in they spots,and broke they lock These clown n***as wanna smoke a-maf Now leave em on the floor Catch him slippin while he in front of the corner store But i aint goin out,(nope)homie im squeezin at you first,let off shots and leave you in a hurse (chorus) Now all my real n***as pop it off Shoot em until his top come off I'm gettin money so, i gotta floss Cause im the boss When i come out, the thugs come out Stomp him out, till the blood come out He frontin, let a slug come out I'll show you what a thug about (40 cal.) Yea All my real n***as pop at ya 40 and a-mafia We gettin money ho, we popular It get impossible to body ya Photographers is watchin ya My whole block hotter then somalia 40 shoot the hollow points Hope your vest titanium They dont want you in new york Like the west side stadium Schemin on your money, like a bedstuy Atm You beefin at 7, you dead by 8 p.m. Internet chatroom thug n***as thinkin they wolves But your heart pumpin racoon blood But im rollin with them baboons cuz Where we call it brain wash Shoot your brains in the bathroom tub I'll bring them crumb snatchers out For a lump cash amount We ride up cornerstore, got a dutchmaster drought I'll make funkmaster shout Its gonna be problems Call me game, you'll be my new son up in harlem Where we hustle fam, more bags than a luggage man, Like box braids, keep my knots up in rubberbands My wrist spring bling, my chain summer jam You should see the hummer fam The rims do the runnin man (damn) (40 cal) All my real n***as pop at ya 40 and a-mafia We gettin money ho, we popular It get impossible to body ya Photographers is watchin ya My whole block hotter then somalia (a-mafia) Now all my real n***as pop it off Shoot em until his top come off I'm gettin money so, i gotta floss Cause im the boss When i come out, the thugs come out Stomp him out, till the blood come out He frontin, let a slug come out I'll show you what a thug about