Hahaha
1998
Three 6 Mafia
Hooked up with the motherfuckin' Dayton Family
Are ya'll ready for us
Bring the pain
Bitch ya'll ain't ready for us
Miphia style
Flip Time
98
Rollin' like dees
Smoke the trees bitch
Chorus x2
We mafia, is it too much (We mafia mafia mafia ya)
Are you ready for us (We mafai mafia mafia ya)
Cause it's the 1990 Triple 6 2000
(Scarecrow)
Mixtures of sin and gin on sight
Cut the wings off an angel
On both sides
I'm suin'
Huntin'
All them suckas
State your last name first
Meyers, Michael
Lord is killin'
Three 6 killin'
What else will I say
Even children
Probably don't give a fuck if you are naughty or nice
At night
Sacrifice
Good bye, lights out
(Juicy J)
Can you feel me
Can you hear me
Did you pick the scene
A lot of fools done fucked around town
Showed up in your dreams
Standin' in a hideaway
Inferred, them guns spray
Gotcha shakin'
Gotcha nervous
Knowin' not how to get away
Lookin' out the window pane
Cause all your gonna feel is pain
In your yard I see a tree
I also see your body hang
See the phone
Pick it up
The wire that is only cut
I meant to pray
Your still gonna die
Too late bitch
Your time is up |
| Chorus x4
(Dayton Family)
What the fuck you wanna do
Be a victim of my homicide
If you try to jack
I'll leave you dead head in the g ride
And creep up out my vehicle
And continue my jack move
Still gat under the dirt
Now put it up in your hand
Now ain't that smooth
Motherfucker
Snooze motherfucker
Move motherfucker
Loose motherfucker
Put your face down to the floor
And don't you take a look up
I heard about what you cook up
See bitch this is a stick up
I'm takin' you off your tippy toes
Take your cheese
And fuck your hoes
Givin' you crack sacks, macks back in your Cadillacs
Drop glock in my draws
Extra clip up under my balls
My dick's like a 44
Fuckin' up your pussy wall
You ran your lip about your grip
And I'm takin' in on the stash box
Your pockets are swoll hoe
And I'm lookin' for a jackpot
I wear a mask on my face
So I won't catch a case
Keepin' it low key
Don't nobody know me
I'm just like a snake
When I creep through your window
So motherfuck the cops
Cold hard on me kin though
So motherfuck the 5-0
It's all about survival
I leave them like d-o-a
Bitch that's dead on arrival
Chorus x4
Cause it's the 1990 Triple 6 2000
(DJ Paul)
Give'em two
To the head
Three to the neck
And the other fuckin' tip
Too his motherfuckin' chest
Gotta buck him down
Gotta buck him down town
Talkin' bout' these clowns
Talkin' shit up in my fuckin' town
Since he ain't dead yet
Check his head
Check his chest
Playa should have guessed
He was strapped with a fuckin' vest
Hoe you should have known
You was fuckin' with the Triple 6
We bust
I knew you wasn't ready for us
To be continued... |
|
