letra de mob life - miss lafamilia
[intro]
(is this a swifta beat?)
[verse 1]
f-ck everythin’, i don’t want no friends
treat n-ggas like kids when they’re grown men
big hot-steppin’ outta cold benz
hand ting spin like i whip to make the coke blend
pockets on fat daily holdin’ ten
foldin’ ’em, keep ’em right next to the holster then (keep it there)
can’t tell me nuttin’, b, i know the ends
comment this, comment that, all you b-tches know is net (chat)
twitter fingers, insta bubbles
but if you saw me on the street, i leave ya lеakin’ puddles (ha, ha)
i’m on a dumb flex, lil b-tch, i’m from the junglе
puttin’ arms all on a n-gga like he need a cuddle
heater rumble
hole in your chest, i’m gonna leave a tunnel
bones and your flesh, boy, i leave you crumpled (yeah, yeah)
all this peac-ckin’, get your feathers ruffled
i leave a half empty mag, i only need a couple
[chorus]
the money got me feelin’ so secure
i don’t do the net, real life we go to war
twenty on your head, b-tch, i beg you know the score
this is mob life, baby, f-ck what you thought
i swear this money got me feelin’ so secure
i don’t do the net, real life we go to war
twenty on your head, b-tch, i beg you know the score
this is mob life, baby, f-ck what you thought
[verse 2]
i’m from the block, boy, i was doin’ top boy
top b-tch, c-ck sh-t and hear the glock noise
more money for the fam just to cop toys
i’m the mic jack king of the pop, boy
youngers hungry, i’ma feed ya to the wolves
’round the back of the shh where we keepin’ all the tools
this the shallow end, man, i’ll take you deeper in the pool
drown, drown, now, now, you was speakin’ like we cool, b-tch
two stitches for dat
throw a clip in the strap
blow your sh-t in your lap
it’s all gang
back stabbers get dipped in the back
big fl!ckie and dat
more than a trickle, a tap
they all ran, b-tch
white sheets like the klan, b-tch
no d-ck, i’m still the man, b-tch
keep heat, you catch a tan, b-tch
if my name’s in your mouth, you’re a fan, b-tch
[chorus]
the money got me feelin’ so secure
i don’t do the net, real life we go to war
twenty on your head, b-tch, i beg you know the score
this is mob life, baby, f-ck what you thought
i swear this money got me feelin’ so secure
i don’t do the net, real life we go to war
twenty on your head, b-tch, i beg you know the score
this is mob life, baby, f-ck what you thought
[outro]
yeah, yeah
mother of the mob sh-t
0121, you know the ting
we comin’ in, steppin’ on necks
i know they see me, man, stop playin’
(is this a swifta beat?)
brrr
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