M.O.P.

M.O.P. - Home Sweet Home lyrics

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(feat. Lord Have Mercy)



[Lil' Fame]

Yo, home skillet

Get back 'fore I push your shit back

Yo, we're here to put it down with the Lord (I'm wit dat!!)

Blaze him (yo, yo)

Blaze him wit a 4 (4)

Cash blow loco I bring the heat to the street

Cuz ya don't know

BROOKLYN Military Killin every motherfucker in sight get hard

w-w-w DOT I-Will-Fuck-You-Up DOT com (strap bombs)

Explode, watch me switch modes

Grab a clutch pop a gear, now I'm in Flipmode

Niggaz gash on 99 octane fuel

You deserve a swift kick in your ass cuz you's a mule

We keep on duckin from the Firing Squad

First you thought you was hard now you calling a guard

Like I'm, oh my Lord...Have Mercy

Please talk to Little Fame cuz he's fixing to merk me

I roll through your hood like it's my hood

And won't have a second thought about if I could

Nigga (HOME SWEET HOME)

It ain't nothing sweet down here

Guns pop for niggas to eat down here

(BROOKLYN)



[Chorus x2]

Home Sweet Home

Clack Clack Salute Salute I'm never alone!!

Brooklyn - Send em back home!

Brooklyn - Send em back home where you at?



[Lord Have Mercy]

Never bring B (B)

R (R)

Double O K (K)

L Y into it

Bring size into it

Sneak 9's into it

Theives rise into it

Seek crime, blow through it

See shines, go to it

Street name

Tweak game, rob you stupid(stupid)

Big trucks, dick ones ride exclusive

You don't know me, and never will

It's cold streets, don't approach me, we never build

Nigga, home of the pick pockets

Four fifth polish, lift wallets

Notorious like Chris Wallace

(BROOKLYN!!)

We dollar cab hop from bad block to bad block

Coppers crash spots with pad locks get backed up

Handcuffed, chasing grands in tha Wastelands (Niggaaaaa)

These boys in tha hood, we poison your hood

Downtown swinging, loud bring noise in your hood (C'mon)



[Chorus x2]



[Billy Danze]

Now everybody rise to the occasion

Duck when I'm aiming (First family!)

Yeah, it's so amazing

The hell I be raising, is from the hell I was raised in

It ain't nann nigga fadin shit

I come equipped

I put my life on the line for mine everytime

Bitch, come and march with these Brooklyn soldiers

You'll talk wit em, bark when you talk to these crooked ass cobras

Hollered at (Bum Bum)

Fired at (gun noises)

Fire back every time with my cousin

Doin the unthinkable, the unthinkable Danze, still comin

Gunning, you'll see the hilltops styling me

I studied Brownsville criminology (Yes!)

If you know a nigga as well as me 

you better bring a motherfuckin calvary

Blesssss



[Chorus x2]
Get this song at:
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amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Language: English

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