Artist: Big Pokey f/ Chris Ward, D-1 Album: Evacuation Notice Song: Mobb Niggaz Typed by: Lil Hustle (*talking*) Yeah I told em D I told them niggaz I ain't playing wit em mayn Don't play (five...six), serious we here Niggaz gon' get they head blown too [Hook - 2x] Mob niggaz, (we do anything for bucks) And we don't open up for niggaz, (we open niggaz up) So when you hear that... (better hope them niggaz duck) Cause if not guess what, (both them niggaz fucked) [Big Pokey] We don't open up for niggaz, we open niggaz up Set the gauge on the side of the stage, if they wanna buck Sensei, they don't want it with me You want a verse bring your purse, cause ain't nothing for free I'm that nigga you wanna be, but the shoes don't fit Same nigga you wanna shoot, but your tool won't let Got a sick pimp game, break a bitch like a stick Then make her move around, like her last name Vick I rubber band ziplock, safe this money Chase this money, stash this waste this money Misplace this money, backtrack trace this money Pull a desert out my back, pack and waste this dummy They gotta feel a nigga, M-O-B gorilla nigga Buzzing like a chainsaw, chiefing on a cigarilla I smoke purple killa, kush haze what it do M-O-B Style motherfucker, we coming through [Hook - 2x] [D-1] If you ain't heard yet, the M-S running the streets And no questions asked, y'all know we running the beats Matter fact, we like 25 hundred a sheet But I'll take a four and a half, of pint and some sweets See mine on my lap, while yours under the seat And you gon' end up like hair lift, you happen to reach I'm Yellowstone terminator, just metal and me And like a Mobstyle track, glock stay on repeat And we prey on the weak, nigga no matter the race I'm a hustler to death, fuck a fan base Cause I can always turn, white grits into pancakes These new weak rap niggaz, getting left handshakes I see it in your eyes, homie you and your man fake And if you mad then buck, I hope you got your plans straight Cause I'm through talking, I'm letting the K translate Then you gon' need a suit, coffin and some landscape [Hook - 2x] [Chris Ward] These niggaz faking it like characters, acting for roles Rapping bout they jewelry, and how they ice is stacked up in rows All I do is give a sign, like the scratch on my nose And out of my henchman's waistline, they seen calicoes You'll get blacka-blacka, bring you back and then your hoes Will get cocked up and knocked up, from they back till it's so' Uh-uh, I don't think you faggots know who you dealing with Don't claim to the the dopeman, but well known for dealing shit Make you turn our music up, and tell yourself you feeling it Never been the clumsy type, but damn I keep spilling shit Drink on my outfits, nut on your bitch tits And laugh out loud, cause I just don't give a shit Haters, you ain't gotta like us Cause in a minute, your fans wife and kids gon' like us We'll give you a hype brush, with the slightest right touch C-Wig and that M-S gang, growing pure as white dust [Hook - 2x]