I'm not trying to be nosey babe oh no
I'm not trying to give you no advice
Hovie's home
I don't plan to be New addition to the roc)no philosopher
But I still know this is the life Baby Baby
It's the MOP Yes
In a zip-code that's
1, 1, 2, 3, 3
And motherf**ker we comin, 100 miles and gunnin
I'm still runnin with cash that's robbed
From the era of exhale 80's and hats back stomp
Same game operation for this industry lockdown
Run up if you wanna, believe me dog
These hammers with they owners, f**k ya G up
Have ya with blue 'jamas in a coma, and
Ya family now moan, look, 70 pounds gone
A little f**k, scribbled up with a hospital down on
We holdin it down holmes sleep  pushin weak frail bastards
To get over, we prowl with slimmer re-shelled tactics
Jiminy frail bastards, your tracks need tune-ups
No limit, what the f**k, recordin for nig' junior
The game aint changedit just got harder
Plus we sponsored by laz' Dame Dash and Mr. S. Carter
Brownsvilleyep, we stomp in this bitch all day
Rock with my cock out, face the crowd and piss off stage
Uh, Uh, Uh, I'm from the G side of thangs
Where we ride and bang, where the heat died of flame
That's how we got the nameWarriors
And better than ya bank, and someone should be tellin 'em
The veterans have came, and we're better in the game
You better make it rain! "27 grams" my man
It's better than cocaine, now everything will change
In this family we'll rule the world
And you haters can eat a dick up till you hiccup and erm
A decade on the grind, nigga I paid mine
So it's my time to shine and for you can ride the pine
I wont sit back and rap like these dumb ass kids
I been around, I put it down, I aint these young ass kids
MOP! The OG's repped and survived around this motherf**ka
First family! We kept it live around this motherucka
When it's crunch time, we do it our wizzay
For shizzle my nigga, learn to grip pistols and BK
WHOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Turn my music high, high, high, high-er
Mo' fire, mo' problems, more Roc-a-wear attire
Mo' money, mo' murder now that M.O.P.'s hired
Mo' murder for the ROC empire, ya'll wont surface
Ya'll nervous knowin them guns on full service, ready to fire
One body, two body, three body, four
Young sittin on paper, I'm above the law
Young shittin on haters, I aint f**kin with ya'll
For my Brownsville neighbors, How About Some Hardcore?
And it just get worser, every time I write my signature in cursive
Just add another million to these verses
One million, two million, three million, four
And the money's really worthless, I'm pissing you off on purpose
My nephew's situated, and my mama's straight
So I'm ready for whatever drama should come our way
And you f**kers rappin to me, so your drama is fake
Ya'll niggas is noodles, I got more fetti to bake
Let's get it!
Newest edition to the Roc ,MOP
The Blueprint 2 is on its way
Let's get it!