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Artist: Big Pokey f/ Chris Ward, D-1
Album:  Evacuation Notice
Song:   Mobb Niggaz
Typed by: Lil Hustle
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]
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]