featuring Mob Figgas 
 
  
  Verse One: C Bo 
  
 
 Twenty five years old still tryin to make a livin off a 
 
 one live then they're only slugs give a nigga 
 
 Fuck holes in my chest took my last breath 
 
 I squeeze my Mag and I'm taggin him to his death ridah 
 
 Surpise the whole block when we slide up 
 
 An expedition in business holdin them 9's up 
 
 First to die be the first nigga that speak 
 
 Murdered to death in the Killafornia streets 
 
 I live my life behind a pistol, smash for the cash 
 
 Bitch, life is too short that's why we murdered your ass 
 
 Give a shout to y'all homies, gave your pussy to a thug nigga 
 
 And all the cops they gave their money to the drug dealers 
 
 Dump slugs on all y'all piggies, that club nigga 
 
 And big dicks is why you white bitches love niggas 
 
 A black warrior, finger on the fuckin trigger 
 
 Before I die bet they realise I'm a real nigga 
  
 
 Chorus: C-Bo 
  
 
 It ain't no clowin this trick, real niggas'll load clips 
 
 Pushin luxury cars, when we dip 
 
 It's all about stackin them chips, makin that long money flip 
 
 And haters that trip a click to catch clips, for real niggas 
 
 *repeat* 
  
 
 Verse Two: Mob Figgas 
  
 
 Bailin times, fuck it, Mob Figgas'll get the bustin 
 
 Ain't no exit out the dip, stuck is how I'm livin 
 
 Driven to be that male factor 
 
 It's like I have ???? a boot cha or do ya out the frame, and loot the cash 
 
 Rush ya, bust ya, with fo'-fifths and extra clips 
 
 Entrepeneur, check my profile, that Mob nigga now 
 
 Pushin weight to my Eastend loc, he called me *?craze is grey?* 
 
 Like Tony but never phony, that bitch ???? ???? 
  
 
 I'm bringin it to em like this, Mob Figgas, real niggas down to kill niggas 
 
 Five niggas, live niggas, lick and do or die, nigga 
 
 Nine's nigga's time's tickin when I blow your mind, nigga 
 
 Call me AP-9, nigga, boogie's when we rhyme, nigga 
 
 I hit the block and have it sold 
 
 See my freakers hittin vicious on them po's, that's the way the game goes 
 
 On tre-low, I stay low, dippin crate loads 
 
 Never had my niggas leavin nappy, runnin big blocks and cavi 
  
 
 Chorus 
  
 
 Verse Three: Mob Figgas 
  
 
 It's the hustler, you figure out I pack the biggest strap 
 
 Boy, I get savage, fold some cabbage, paper chasin is effect 
 
 Real niggas lost the fake, and a war that's takin place 
 
 You might get chopped up by the gauge, you ain't the kind that can't relate 
 
 Walk and trip into my car, stompin a chop off in my drawers 
 
 It's the hustler verse em all, so I blast if it's called fo' 
 
 Your detective ass wears raw do', real niggas keepin it inside do' 
 
 While real niggas is ridin, that's how we flex when we despise 
  
 
 The Mob Figgas, I grew up with these niggas 
 
 Trust my life for real niggas, ??? be the first to blast 
 
 so I don't have no fear, when I'm out here 
 
 But life still be makin me sick 
 
 Had to feel the Gleec kick and see heat rip flesh from the unfortunate 
 
 Allah bless your soul 
 
 I know I was wrong but he crossed the real 
 
 so I prayed that you will have understandin and feel 
 
 my story, when it's time to wrestle niggas to respect 
  
 
 Real niggas out to get, out to get it on 
 
 Screamin "Fuck em all" wit my back against the wall 
 
 They can't hold me back, I be the first to dump 
 
 on the worthless filth punk as he jump, felts kick from the pump 
 
 When my nuts was young, we see they hung to the floor 
 
 And when they severs 2-11's like teflon dyin out the door 
 
 What they know? We Mob Figgas, born in them savage times 
 
 Fuck your average ass rhymes, nigga 
  
 
 Chorus