f/ Killa Tay



* send corrections to the typist



West Coast Mafia

100 percent

Mob Figgaz n' real niggaz

We M-O-B L-I-F-E

My nigga ap9

Bgeezy

Food Free

Killa Tay trick



[Killa Tay]

I never hearda these fools

I'm quick to murder these fools

Dude if you hop off on this gangsta shit

Study the rules

Or get bloody and bruised

Tied up jacked and kidnapped

My fo thugs wit no love savagely raising big straps

We git em Lloyd

Trigga finga itchy like the hemmroids

Snap you like a poloriod

Somebody better hol'ja boy

Flawless like Roy Jones

Destroy bones on contact

Life ain't shit

Witout some pussy and a bomb sack

Million Dollar contracts

Comin' and goin'

But y'all aint knowin'

Bank account swollen

Picture me rollin'

In the Escalade

High starin death in the face

Heart fulla hate

Puttin work in but aint catchin no case

I got my game tight

Cuz big homey, laced me as a young G

Hungry for my chedda cheeze

Pushin OZ's

Make a profit hoes

Gots to got my name in they mouth

They bumpin guns and smokin murda blunts

When the guns come out

They poppin' please don't shoot

But ain't no git back when the shit crack

Murda man like Al Capone

Bust him wit the big gat

Hit him high

Feel the ride

Aint givin a fuck about Genocide

When this song is on

I gotta ride for mine

When the war pop off

Niggas die

Like fay days

Kill em all from the OG's to the Bebe's

When the gun blaze

Like sun rays

Doin drive by's on the run ways

Feds tryin to hunt Tay down

In every town

From Philly to Compton they investigatin

My stomach rounds





[Chorus] 2x

All my niggas smuggle shit

I'm on some otha shit

Like fuckin' over the government

My ghetto politic thug niggas lovin this

Leavin u open like a hollow tip

Inside ya nigga

Swollow this

Hollow Hollow



[AP-9]

I don't give a shit

Still lettin off clips

Gimme the mike and let me touch some shit 'till I love

I get a headrush

When the lead go bust

Kickin up dust

Man that's a must

Sometimes on the mike I cuss

Kickin up dust on the mike I buss

I know my people's know who really run

Smokin' up on a Philly Blunt

Slappin' a sucka wit a gun

Crushin' up shit just like Big Pun

North to the East

South to the West

I most confess

I gotta get a piece

Betta yet a hoe can't settle for less

I don't discriminate

Every fake nigga perpetrate

Concentrate on makin' papes

Shakin' fakes in the month of gate

Keepin' em as I contemplate

These high stakes wit a runnin' mate

Takin' it to another climate

For those that ever try to draw me

Rent em off to Bombay

Feelin my way

Fuck you in the hallway

My rhyme pays

'Sides Bombay

My Do or Die day nigga

Livin it up

Im givin' it up

For my niggas that been tearin shit up

Nigga What



[Chorus] 2x



[AP-9]

I been doin this shit since '89

They still hatin' on debatin' on tryin' to play P-9

I see fakers on then its on

Wanna spray P-9?

All around my neck strapped tough flee

For the niggas that wanna touch me

Tryin' to fuck me

Wit' no vasoline

I get the gasoline

For niggas that's after me

5 G's is what I need on the M-I-C

Half a that before I breathe on

Niggas like you get peed on

So speed on

And be gone

To the cut with your fleet on

Or all of your teeth gone

Missin

No description until we bust

And you didn't listen

Rollin' wit the funk I think I bust cuz im thug livin'

Never give in

Nothin'

But takin' the bacon wit no mistakin'

I got some killas

On the pay roll

In day low

When it's time to handle business

Never miss it

Nigga lay low



[Chorus] 2x



Fades out