M.O.P.
M.O.P. - Home Sweet Home songtekst
Je score:
(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]