C-Bo

C-Bo - Real Niggas

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Verse One: C Bo
 Twenty five years old  still tryin to make a livin off a
 one live  then they're only slugs give a nigga
 Fuck holes in my chest  took my last breath
 I  squeeze my Mag and I'm taggin him to his death ridah
 Surpise the whole block when we slide up
 An expedition in business  holdin them 9's up
 First to die be the first nigga that speak
 Murdered to death in the Killafornia streets
 I live my life behind a pistol, smash for the cash
 Bitch, life is too short that's why we murdered your ass
 Give a shout to y'all homies, gave your pussy to a thug nigga
 And all the cops they gave their money to the drug dealers
 Dump slugs on all y'all piggies, that club nigga
 And big dicks is why you white bitches love niggas
 A black warrior, finger on the fuckin trigger
 Before I die bet they realise I'm a real nigga

 Chorus: C-Bo

 It ain't no clowin this trick, real niggas'll load clips
 Pushin luxury cars, when we dip
 It's all about stackin them chips, makin that long money flip
 And haters that trip a click to catch clips, for real niggas
 *repeat*

 Verse Two: Mob Figgas

 Bailin times, fuck it, Mob Figgas'll get the bustin
 Ain't no exit out the dip, stuck is how I'm livin
 Driven to be that male factor
 It's like I have ???? a boot cha or do ya out the frame, and loot the cash
 Rush ya, bust ya, with fo'-fifths and extra clips
 Entrepeneur, check my profile, that Mob nigga now
 Pushin weight to my Eastend loc, he called me *?craze is grey?*
 Like Tony but never phony, that bitch ???? ????

 I'm bringin it to em like this, Mob Figgas, real niggas down to kill niggas
 Five niggas, live niggas, lick and do or die, nigga
 Nine's nigga's time's tickin when I blow your mind, nigga
 Call me AP-9, nigga, boogie's when we rhyme, nigga
 I hit the block and have it sold
 See my freakers hittin vicious on them po's, that's the way the game goes
 On tre-low, I stay low, dippin crate loads
 Never had my niggas leavin nappy, runnin big blocks and cavi

 Chorus

 Verse Three: Mob Figgas

 It's the hustler, you figure out I pack the biggest strap
 Boy, I get savage, fold some cabbage, paper chasin is effect
 Real niggas lost the fake, and a war that's takin place
 You might get chopped up by the gauge, you ain't the kind that can't relate
 Walk and trip into my car, stompin a chop off in my drawers
 It's the hustler verse em all, so I blast if it's called fo'
 Your detective ass wears raw do', real niggas keepin it inside do'
 While real niggas is ridin, that's how we flex when we despise

 The Mob Figgas, I grew up with these niggas
 Trust my life for real niggas, ??? be the first to blast
 so I don't have no fear, when I'm out here
 But life still be makin me sick
 Had to feel the Gleec kick and see heat rip flesh from the unfortunate
 Allah bless your soul
 I know I was wrong but he crossed the real
 so I prayed that you will have understandin and feel
 my story, when it's time to wrestle niggas to respect

 Real niggas out to get, out to get it on
 Screamin "Fuck em all" wit my back against the wall
 They can't hold me back, I be the first to dump
 on the worthless filth punk as he jump, felts kick from the pump
 When my nuts was young, we see they hung to the floor
 And when they severs 2-11's like teflon dyin out the door
 What they know? We Mob Figgas, born in them savage times
 Fuck your average ass rhymes, nigga

 Chorus
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: West Coast Mafia Records

Details:

Released in: 2013

Language: English

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