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letra de intro - mike smiff

n-ggas told me you can’t go to war ’til you get your money right n-gga
well i done got with the money team
trick daddy told me i can talk my sh-t
touche told me i can talk my motherf-cking sh-t n-gga
slip-n-slide records we the motherf-cking mob n-gga
mike smiff, mr. florida, mr. down south dade county turnpike south exit 6 b-tch
m.i.a.m.i. we got the motherf-cking streets now n-gga yes sir
touche, trick yall put yall feet up, i got this sh-t
right hand on a stack of bibles, i will slap the sh-t out of one these b-tch-ass n-ggas
dade county, we back yes sir

reporting live from the dope whole
n-gga m.i.a. we got the streets in a choke whole
f-ck n-gga where that money at
look me in my eyes, welcome to the mind of a maniac
man, i just don’t give a f-ck
take me to any ‘hood, drop me off, i’m ‘a run it up
i’m a motherf-cking rider
a hustler, go-getter, survivor

i understand ain’t n0body finna give me shut
dropped out of high school went to drilling sh-t
young n-ggas slanging hammers like i’m building sh-t
murder one ain’t nothing, i’ll k!ll a b-tch
went to jail, told the judge i was innocent
kept my mouth closed n-gga, i was militant
my whole team got federal indictments
b-tch you couldn’t walk a mile in these nikes
still in the streets
still got that fie stuff down in my briefs
still with the smoke
my n-gga still in the ’hood still selling dope
we ain’t going back broke
n-gga how would you react with your back to the ropes
n-ggas already know
i done been in that pressure and ain’t never fold

slip-n-slide over anything
we don’t rock tight shirts we don’t rock skinny jeans
still let our pants sag
n-gga pocket full of racks, n-gga we don’t rock man bags

finna take it back to the streets
i might rock d-ckies all week
i might go and buy a benz
i might mask up and break buddy roe out the pen

this that miami knight sh-t
that convertible bert rick brownlee and ike sh-t
bo diddly, bunky brown, and pop young
ump jr walker, and sunny bun
uncle al would be proud of me
in a chevy with a 3.5 on that loud on me
riding ’round with my music up booted up
n-gga run up on me i’m ‘a shoot ’em up
real n-ggas in the building, n-gga what it do
b-tch i’m mike smiff, who the f-ck is you?
you ain’t talking about money, it don’t matter
young n-ggas in the field like a cattle
n-gga we ain’t scared of nothing but a gavel
a n-gga still will never snitch, never tattle
always got fire like a candle
always got a bag like santa

big guns, quarter keys, and lawyer fees
alcoholics, dead bodies, and narcotics
n-gga, i done seen it all
i done seen it all
i just want to ball
i just want to ball

run it up, run it up, run it up n-gga
a quarter million dollars ain’t enough n-gga
we need ms on ms on ms
i’m trying to pull up in the foreign with the rims
r.i.p. rey day got d-mn
he was there when i was shooting in the gym

i done lost a whole lot
my word my b-lls and this glock all i got
can’t stop ’til i make it to the top
can’t stop ’til my pockets full of knots
redrum got sticks for the opps
riding around with them brooms and them mops
i do it for the gangstas and the thugs
i do it for the n-ggas in the mob
i do it for all the single mothers
i do it for the people in the struggles
i do it for the dealers and the strippers
i do it for the smugglers and the [?]
i do it for the n-ggas in the pen
slip-n-slide records we gon’ get it in

ain’t got a job but i’m finna go to work
n-gga intervene, we gon’ put him in a he-rs-
we finna lock this rap sh-t down
came for the check, we ain’t come to play ’round
we got the heat, we got the streets
you don’t f-ck with us n-gga you ain’t finna eat
p-ssy-ass n-gga, get down or lay down
y’all n-ggas name don’t hold weight now

hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
we the big black rock wilders on the block
eyes low looking like i just woke up
team full of hittas, who the f-ck want what
big bucks, big cars, big trucks
ninty six 2pac hit ’em up
mike smiff putting it all on the line
and slip-n-slide finna shine like it’s ninty nine lil b-tch

- mike smiff

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