paroles de chanson Mob Life - Miss Lafamilia

(Is this a Swifta beat?)

Fuck everything, (yeah) I don't want no friends (nah, nah)
Treat niggas like kids when they're grown men (uh)
Big hot-stepping out a cold Benz
Hand ting spin like a whip to make the coke blend (brr)
Pockets on fat daily holding ten
Folding them
Keep it right next to the holster then (holster then)
Can't tell me nutting, B, I know the ends

Comment this, comment that, all you bitches know is net (chat)
Twitter fingers, Insta' bubbles
But if you saw me on the street
I'll leave ya leaking puddlеs (ha, ha)
I'm on a dumb flex, lil' bitch, I'm from the jungle
Putting arms all on a nigga likе he need a cuddle

Heater rumble
Hole in your chest, I'm gonna leave a tunnel
Bones and your flesh, boy, I leave you crumbled (yeah, yeah)
All this peacocking, get your feathers ruffled
I leave a half empty mag, I only need a couple

The money got me feeling so secure (so secure)
I don't do the net, real life we go to war (we go to war)
Twenty on your head, bitch, I beg you know the score (know the score)
This is mob life, baby, fuck what you thought (what you thought, yeah)
The money got me feeling so secure (so secure)
I don't do the net, real life we go to war (we go to war)
Twenty on your head, bitch, I beg you know the score (know the score)
This is mob life, baby, fuck what you thought (what you thought, yeah)

I'm from the block, boy, I was doing Top Boy
Top bitch, cock shit 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're keeping all the tools
This the shallow end, man, I'll take you deeper in the pool
Drown, drown, now, now, you was speaking like we cool, bitch

Two stitches for dat
Throw a clip in the strap
Blow your shit in your lap
It's all gang
Back stabbers get dipped in the back
Big flickie and dat
More than a trickle, a tap

They all ran, bitch
White sheets like the Klan, bitch
No dick, I'm still the man, bitch
Keep heat, you catch a tan, bitch
If my name's in your mouth, you're a fan, bitch

The money got me feeling so secure (so secure)
I don't do the net, real life we go to war (nah, nah)
Twenty on your head, bitch, I beg you know the score (know the score)
This is mob life, baby, fuck what you thought (what you thought, ayy)
I swear this money got me feeling so secure (so secure)
I don't do the net, real life we go to war (we go to war)
Twenty on your head, bitch, I beg you know the score (know the score)
This is mob life, baby, fuck what you thought

Yeah, yeah
Mother of the Mob shit
0121, you know the ting
We coming in, stepping on necks
I know they see me, man, stop playing
(Is this a Swifta beat?)
Burrr