M.O.P. - Z Teflon 4 Alarm Blaze lyrics

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 Raised on a strip called here brotha hill
 Where guns pop and cops get killed
 This is the place where paranoya
 Destroyin? niggas cash cases mo? try to flash they lawyers
 We?re losin? it
 Four fives and knives we be movin? wit
 Caught up in the things that the street game confused you wit
 We?re provin? it
 Let it be known if retaliation
 Home-skillet - it?s on
 That rap nigga bust a cap nigga flat nigga
 Open up your back nigga Rosewood black nigga
 First family gone brawl
 It?s president?s resident, and I?m the first dog
 You know the M.O.P status
 In the history of crime and rap we some the baddest
 Word to the mommy
 Any fool try me
 Get hit wit the Llama
 Fuck cuminana

 Chorus - Teflon and Lil? Fame:  2X

 It?s a 4 alarm blaze
 Everybody post up next to the stage
 Come on
 You?re all welcome to hell?s roadway
 First family style
 Buck ass wild
 What ya say

 Billy Danze:

 Get ya man on the jack soldier
 Grip your mac soldier
 We?re back soldier
 And we have swam through the Brownsville sewers
 The last on the line of our kind CRIME DO?ERS
 Burkowitz MOB STYLE
 Spit fire from my hammer like I wasn?t God?s child
 Crucify me - but don?t deny me
 Or get slit bitch you couldn?t slip nothin? by me
 Try me and I?ll pop shots like I?m supposed to
 I?m from the field where the covers are unnoticable
 I?ve noticed a few niggas wantin? my head
 Used my smarts and my secret all are firin? lead  (Fire ya lead)
 With all intentions of droppin? a body
 I?m usually nervous so I?m flinchin? when I enter the party
 That bullshit
 Just when you thought it was safe I flipped and hit ?em wit more shit

 Chorus  2X:


 Introducin? the best kept secret
 It?s no sweet shit I sleep wit green beret
 Blaze enemies frequent
 I speak wit authority
 (Black) Perhaps through four to be
 Cap quarterly blazed till it?s quiet and orderly
 The gunsmoke make son soak
 The smoke run through the barrel until the gun choke
 Raised cold-hearted and deadly
 Survive wit a nickel-plated tool and jewels old-timer done fed me
 Keep my grip steady
 Squeeze till they drop off
 Make sure all other guns are popped off as heavy
 Blowin some high-tech shit
 Through your projects
 Makin? whatever was in my way easy to di-tect
 I wrecks guys
 Over money gone Saratoga son be in a Columbian necktie
 We don?t respects by
 Half-ass niggas
 Blast niggas
 Gas niggas who won?t blast
  The sect die

 All:  2X

 Just when you thought it was safe
 The mad shell posse hit you off wit another taste
 Uh (Uh) Uh (Uh) Uh (Uh ) Uh (Uh)
 Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah)


 Yeah, uh-huh, what the fuck
 Two asked quick for bastards to step to
 Leave wounds too drastic for rescue
 When I rock jewels it ain?t to impress you
 What the fuck niggas commentin on my shit fo?
 I?m real - how you think I got rich ho?
 Pack steel - ain?t afraid to let a clip go
 I got enough paper to get low
 Come back when the shit blow over get the dough over
 Huh wit the Rover snatch the gat from the clip holder
 Rip through ya shoulder bitch it?s Jay-hovah
 I?m too right wit it, too tight wit it
 You light witted but if you?re feel ya nice nigga spit it
 Who am I?
 Do or die
 Blocka, rocka, M.O.P collabo
 Front on us and gats blow ya know?

 Chorus: 2X
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Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?


Language: English

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