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Yukmouth Lyrics - Ral Mafia

Ral Mafia Lyrics:
Verse 1:
[yukmouth]
I live the life of a hooler
Take ten pages
Turn around and shoot íem
Concrete budda
We threw íem in the creak to loose íem
Streets polluted with drugs
Salute íem with thugs
We used to
Sleep on a rug
A momma never said she loved
Or hugged us
Itís just us, me and my two sisters
Iím too whooshes
Plus new bushes
With .22ís up in the bushes
We ride, gís
Menace to societies
The real shit
Fuck a movie, the village
We filled with chinese
Essays, niggas, cambodians
Or go against the police
Thugged out like napolean
Grab the milli, from my belly, catch new welly
Slugs in your pelle pelle, smell me
Since makaveli died, itís like the westcoast shit died
But rťgime be the realest shit alive
Ride or die
So high am i, nigga you canít tell from the eyes
Blood shot red
The feds gettiní bread from the pies
Wiseguys cops risk lay-off to stay off the block
Transportiní drop the yay off
You paid off the top
Smoke-a-lot popular on the lock
For flippiní birds like nadia
Mafia, rap-a-lot mafia

Verse 2:
[willie d of the geto boys]
My nigga, my nigga
Iím here to say to
You try to tell it
Can even spell it
Itís about respect
For God knows you was talking too
And the slap came
We be the realest motherfuckers in the rapgame
Rap-a-lot mafia, you ainít ready for what we got for ya
I make a motherfucker doctor ya
See, it ainít all about records
We run the motherfuckiní streets in houston, texas
We mobilize and we been rated high
Our adversaries die, when our pull a fry, bullets fly
Like some motherfuckiní blackbirds
When we ride
Itís caskets and con words
Mob nigga

Verse 3:
[t.l.t of the ghetto twiinz]
Fuck peace
See itís all about violence
Put that tek to you silent
Leave you howlin
Iíma creep upon ya (yeah)
Iíma put it on ya (who)
Drop bombs on ya like they did in oklahoma

[mz. g.b. of the ghetto twiinz]
See ones that nigga yuk, look
Somebody gon die
You could took a try
And kiss that ass goodbye
You be found in your home nigga
Head blown from that chrome
Fuck with me, Iím liviní wrong nigga

[t.l.t of the ghetto twiinz]
Nigga remember me
Iím the one, gon get ya
You better pray that God has switched ya
Fuckiní round with the mafia
You torn blood from you bitches
Nigga what
Bustin holes in you bitches

[mz. g.b. of the ghetto twiinz]
You better wear you vest, real tight bitch
The mafia gonna put it in you life bitch
Ainít no motherfucker stoppiní up
The only bitch puttiní it down with the mafia
Rap-a-lot mafia

Verse 4:
[dmg of facemob]
Niggas sure wonder why I hang with these thugs
Cause my nigga yuk fuckiní these niggas up
Nigga, this rap-a-lot, mafia till I die
Why? because we ride
Everyday do or die
Riffles and .45ís
17-shot 9ís
Right up between your eyes
Niggas is gon die
Niggas come from the pound
Hummers and s-sís
Born to be a killer
Fill a nigga
Body with holes
Head the toe when he showed up
Blow up your whole motherfuckiní head, quote us
And iíma roll, with my niggas till the wheels fall
Clean up the motherfuckiní car
And in this room we bring the world war

Verse 5:
[007 of the 5th ward boyz]
See the circlepiece be the satellite
>from the 5th ward
Command union, how we do it, how we do it
>from the south
Texas roll real, swing wide knock íem out
Double "0" and yuk worldwide what you talkiní about
See the .45ís, see the big faces
Catchiní murder cases, hood erasers
Paper chasers
With the 98, sittiní on steakes
Balliní in the bay with the tek to place

Verse 6:
[e-rock of the 5th ward boyz]
Recognize the mob bitch
All day this thug shit
Blisted up, trigger fingers for niggas that start shit
Creep this as I part quick
Ride dopefiend, will her with a tint
Akís and vestís
Born in california, killed down in texas
Ohoh, slow your roll here come the po-poís
Anything can happen ridiní through execution capital
E-rock the stupid foí, whoís ridiní with this nigga yuk
We the mafia, squabble the gun
Played out, droppiní ya

Verse 7:
[lo-life of the 5th ward boyz]
We mob figgers
We to take the whole world out
At 50 states all black god
After that, we still gon grind on the side
To make your motherfuckers mind
I pop the 9, you pop the 9
And all yíall motherfuckers dyiní
We gon drive by
We walk up and do these niggas out the game
We sell 2 shot, and none left in the chain
Cause itís rap-a-lot mafia man
Is to be fuckiní with man
Watch who you talk to
We kill
If thatís what itís brought down to

Verse 8:
[capone of facemob]
Off with his motherfuckiní head with the lead
Dead leave his hilfiger shirt all real
Said itís motherfucker locked in your spot
Shotís will be dropped, right here, right now
Paw, niggas all the way tugged down
Town
Ride around town showiní out
Pounds
City after city fuckiní hoes
Yours ainít a lot act like you know
Capone with the city complete assassinater
With paper, blow up a nigga shit like sky pagers
Itís major, save a whole out of not
Stop, if you think your feeliní fin popped
Rap-a-lot canít stop, wonít, donít stop
And we did already hit the top
Rap-a-lot canít stop, wonít, donít stop
And we did already hit the top
Mob

Verse 9:
[lilí chylla of the snypaz]
I be cominí through rages
And niggas thinkiní I pissed off
Iím itchiní to get my sick off
I be trickiní them if they trick off
All hands about to get kicked off

[2-4 of the snypaz]
Nigga I got íem
Fuck up your body when the slugs touch down
Runniní up on me you feel it
The realest and platinum bound
With the nigga called yuk
We brakiní bed and ballin
Feds holliní
Bloody bodies with no heads
And calling your momma nigga

[lilí chylla of the snypaz]
Yo, who the mob, feel her
Rap-a-lot nigga
Kick that john quicker
I missed the bomb disher
Flat the palms
Money is in my figures

[2-4 of the snypaz]
With our triggers
Snypaz be red dot niggas
We the mafia and yuk sent your picture
So weíre droppiní

[lilí chylla of the snypaz]
Maybe you speakiní
Role one
Kill each other, smoke some
Po-poís pass to folks some
Rap-a-lot mafia known from

Verse 10:
[? ? ]
We putís limits on niggas
We hold money over bitches
Let the whole world recognize the realest
When itís banginí rap-a-lot mafia
The streetís most popular
Serviní your hood like helicopters
Say the wrong thing and Iíll slaughter ya
Disrespect the mob, young catch punkiní heads
Wishiní you was dead
Layin in bed the next
Nigga what did I say
To make these niggas act this way
Rich thugs still got me muggs
Just to remind a motherfucker, about where I was
Nothiní but love from my thugs
Get your paper cause
We laugh and drink when we rich, black and know this spore
Nigga this rap-a-lot mafia

Interlude:
[j prince]
You ainít gotta come from cranestreet
200 or circlepiece
Itís all about do you believe
Rap-a-lot mafia life
Rap-a-lot on the streets

Verse 11:
[scarface of the geto boys]
Recognize the mob or get you ass mobbed on
No love to ones who oppose
We tagginí motherfuckers toes
And we ainít even got a dresscode
Just those, 1000 niggas infront of expoís
Waitiní on the next goes
So lets roll and lets go
Ainít no sissy niggas surviviní
If you donít come with them you got a problem
Solve íem, hit íem with the .44 revolver
Make an amount of what believe is right before his daughter
Exactly like the doctor ordered
Dressiní your homies up in church clothes
You took the shot, that brought the black hoe
And thatís cold, but thatís the motherfuckiní thing
Respect the mob and little j and the family name

Artists:  # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

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