Mafia Music III

My corner so polluted, young niggas looting

I studied Kenneth Williams, I'm one hell of a student

Remarkable hustle, my niggas coming home

I kept the candle lit, my nigga never rowed

Niggas caught him slipping, gave him a shit bag

Five shots to the stomach, 2Pac gift pack

It's death row, conspiracy theories

Concealed indictments handed to the grand jury

Get some money now, you hated by your own kind

The home invasion done by niggas in your bloodline

GABOS, game ain’t based on sympathy

So he put a hit on his cousin at 18

A sweet potato pie, oh me, oh my

Showing no remorse watching the others cry

Heroin sales, detectives'll sell

A lot of yellow tape, where that Obama care?

This the mob, bitch, silk underwear

Yeezy concerts, Kim Instagrams

Niggas hating, though they studied my moves

I'm like Farrakhan, in view of hundreds of Jews

Two attempts on my life, they threatened venues

Can't you see what I am? The hustle continue

I bought more jewels, I ordered the Wraith

I got a new style of shoes, match the watch in the face

Bill Belichick, coaching and calling the shots

Throw a yellow flag, pussy nigga body drops

Then we celebrate, black bottles pop

Time to elevate, we re-open shop

Wale a genius, Meek Mill a superstar

My new crib in Phoenix, ten car garage

Petite felite, platinum Audemars

Ain't no tags needed, nigga, I own them cars

I know them bitches, we met them broads

Never loved one, fucked them all

I'm a fucking dog, Ricky fucking Ross

Nigga Birkin bags just for my runner-ups

But my main bitch she get the main dish

Not the old range, that was a lame bitch

Brazilian weave, she say I came quick

I let her see a hundred ki's, a different St. Nick

Moving bricks like it's Black Friday

She gotta fuck me or call me a fat crybaby

Looking over my shoulder, I can't trust a soul

Bought a spot in Anguilla just for me and my ho

Glock .40, even when I shower

Chrome .22 in my swimming towel

Mob ties and I pray the music set me free

May the powers that be, nigga let me be

We around when the sun goes down

And the real, real killers they mourn for ya

It's gonna be a bloodshed

One month, one day it's gonna be a bloodshed

Bop, gunshot in the head

Payback is a motherfucker

Yes, I feel it when I squeeze the trigger

I feel the air when my enemies die

I feel the strength of ten killas

What is to be, will be

Only God on earth can kill me

'Cause these fucking streets filthy

And I ain't fucking guilty

Gangsta no take no chance, from no guy

Know why? Violate a gangsta and bullets fly

Boy die

Guns go off ah suh me say

Murderings in anyway

Gangsta no take no chance, from no guy

Know why? Violate a gangsta and bullets fly

Boy die

Guns go off ah suh we say

Murderings in anyway

You better not be around, when the sun goes down

And the real real killas, them hunt for you

Ay, it's gonna be a bloodshed

One bust, one dead, it's gonna be a bloodshed

Gun shot in a head

Sizzla Kalonji have de girls dem screaming

Entire country every sweet gyal

Ya already know the meaning but its streaming

Go and clean, ya cant diss me ya must be dreaming

Jamaicans make dem know we can't defeat dem (Mo' fire)