Runnin' Da Red

[Big Pokey:]

What type of nigga eat, and don't get full

I'm half gator, half dog I'm a crock bull

With a appetite, if I snap tonight

I'ma knock a bitch head, in his lap tonight

I'm strapped tonight, extra clip in the glove

Under the shotgun slugs, and a throw away snub

When my pressure swell, niggaz never live to tell

That they jumped in the water, with a killer whale

That's deep homes, I'm bout to get my eat on

Until a son of a bitch head, and his feet gone

A mob nigga mask up, and get his creep on

And make sho', that that hoe ass nigga sleep long

Chiropractor, I pop niggaz backs

My hand size Mack, unlock six packs

That's that back-back, move around dog

Watch that crack back, you around hogs nigga

[Hook x2:]

If you see me with my heat, I got one in the head

If you see me on the creep, I'm running the reds

If my work ain't right, I'ma put one in his dreads

One in his neck two in his chest, stomach and legs

[Killa Kyleon:]

Kick in your do', while you sipping a fo and you hitting the dro

That hoe that's licking you low, she's hitting the flo'

Better go to your safe, and be getting the do'

Or them tires in your garage, and be getting the snow

I thought you had work, it look like you been sniffing your snow

That's when I'm lifting a fo', now he stiff in the snow

And if that broad try to run, I'ma put six in that hoe

Merck everybody in the vicinity, in case witnesses know

Hop in the six and let's go, supply the licks at the sto'

But make sho' that this blow kick do', at a continuous flow

Better not be short on my work, or my Benjamin's bro

Or your body'll get a permanent, injuring bro

Bullets go in niggaz fast, they ain't entering slow

On your knees you begging your please, surrendering hoe

I'm M-O-B-S-T-Y-L-E

Got a lick for a ki', just make sure you contact me

[Hook x2]

[Grimm Rea:]

You wanna play nigga, you better find somebody

Or a whiteboy'll be jogging, and find somebody

It stay personal with me, cause I live off respect

You in this game playing foul, now I'ma give you a tech

Not only your shirt wet, I'ma flood the block

You speaking on niggaz I eat with, get you dressed in a box

And I don't care, if you hate it or love it

Stone till I'm gone, nigga and I swear while I'm here I'ma thug it

Only got one to live, so I'm go all out

You cross the wrong niggaz, therefore we fall out

Don't try running in your house, I'll blow your do' all out

44-Mag, the reason that they bagged his body

Your partnas don't care, they don't even ask about him

Didn't know stupid nigga, you should of asked somebody

[Hook x2]

[D-1:]

I'm running in your house, and I'm hitting your safe

Any problems, the 4-4 hitting your face

Act like a asshole, and get a split in your face

You kept talking, when I told you get in your place

Now this SK got your soul, living in space

If you ain't walking, then how you gon get in the race

Been doing dirt twenty years, without getting a case

And I don't care about your niggaz, let 'em try to hurt me

Get they wig pushed back, like Calvin Murphy

I'm the kid balling, but I don't play for Jersey

Pushing a Prowler, painted like a purple slurpee

And I got what you need, from quarters to turkeys

I'm with the Mob mo'fucker, don't leave me out

I stay balling, even when the season out

A young nigga that lay low, and love to bleed in droughts

A dope game quarterback, I just feed the routes

[Hook x2]