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Posse Song
S.N.O.
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
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I done cut niggas lights on
I will cut niggas lights out
AK-47, MAC-11, 187, it's gon' be a wide out
One phone call and your head is cut
You ain't from the hood, your life made up
You never broke bread and you can't break up
Old dick ride nigga ride with who you must
We get money over here, smoking weed, drinking beer
Popping pills, popping seals in a yacht by the pier
Louis bag on the swag, bro I got all the gear
.44 In my drawers, I'ma let you niggas hear
You ain't seen what I'm 'bout to do, this is my year
'Bout to cop me a brand new Phantom G
And I will have an automatic on the seat
With your girlfriend fucking and sucking me
See millions on the table
Project kill for that, he be out of label
Copping extra straps, extra choppers, extra clips
Extra goons for extra hits
So burn one of you cowards tryna come my way with that extra shit
Yeah a nigga been popping bottles
Smoking purp and tossing models
S-N-O-P slash Noreeno going full throttle
Straight non-Memphis nigga, nigga know the business
I ain't going back to jail, I murder me a business
See I whoop bitches, but I kill niggas
I don't really wear a lot of diamond rings
'Til they get in the way of my trigger
And I got some real killers
Not saying that's something to brag
I'll be sipping wine eating dinner
You'll be laying down getting toe tagged
I'll slit your whole fucking face off
And staple that shit to your son's head
Don't play with me hoe, pump the clips
And my pistols are longer than Rasta dreads
Put 'em to bed, spread 'em out like bedspreads
These niggas run from me like they run from the feds
These niggas know I'm wild, love to smoke like a boss leg
Got 'em skipping round trick or treating with a pumpkin head
Mafia homie 'til the day that I die
If it got ill in my hood, go cry
All is damn fly
Ain't blocking out, I'm doing all the time
Looking gangster homie
I been put it down when you niggas don't want me
I ain't hard to find
I'm on Parkway if you bitch niggas want me
Without my guys I'm still me
I'm a real nigga, I don't pretend to be
If you come to my neighborhood
I bet them real niggas mention me
Yeah, you gotta keep it
'Cause them goons stalking me
You know I keep my strap with me
Little pussy nigga
It's half heart mafia, my niggas with me
I got 3-6 mafia, nigga begging me
I'm all about some money, all that bull shit is irrelevant
'Cause P-Slash grown
Do I sound intelligent?
I still don't need no evidence
Young nigga just get grown
Young nigga is nothing, I just get it like a bitch would
My nigga you been warned
P-Slash been shooting guns
I do it for the hell of it and sometimes to have fun, yeah
Yes Cashville I'm the one that they talk about
Next one do it this song I'ma knock 'em out
Got it raw so the cellphone popping now
Open 24/7 like the Waffle House
Lot of people hating on me, I just keep it pushing though
I ain't lying, turn water to a cookie though
Hey Paul and Juice put me on the cooking show
It's 'bout time I taught the world how to cook a O
I'm too high in the clouds, I look down
And it's hard to hear what these haters saying
A new sheriff's in town and I ain't fucking around
My new motto is fuck you, pay me
Billy West, what's popping? What up B-Slash?
Want a show now? I need three cash
Y'all in the slow lane, I'm 'bout to speed past
Everybody want a piece of me like the weed stash
Man I need to get this money, money hungry for the cheese
I been out here running around tryna make this end meet
I fuck with real killers, man we the real streets
Got these choppers on deck if you violate me
VVI White Music and the ACB
Hossy on these hoes and we way too deep
We be fucking these hoes and taking they dough
Me, Wyte and Jelly, what you know about the snow?
We be going HAM on 'em, we be pulling cans on 'em
This right here a horny cow, dang gon' jam on 'em
Yeah I got gloves on but I'ma put my hands on 'em
I'ma stand in front of 'em then I walk the flock of lamb on 'em
Rest after chopper walk over then I stand on 'em
Who want a bite of Jelly? 'Cause I got a couple grand on him
If he's on the block then he probably got them grams on him
Damn that cracker crazy, he be mobbing with the yams on him
My city off the hook, you hear the fucking dial tone
Memphis 10, murder capital, first 48's home
Lots of killers, drug dealers and hoes on every corner
Get your pills, coke, sizzurp and pound some marijuana
I'm Lil Wyte the Bay Area soldier, the old soul
Get your product and get to fucking dipping like Skoal
This is White Music bitch, gotta rep the front of street
ATP, Pachi song for the snow CD
We deep, BPC Kelly rolling me
Paul Jay, Project Pat, B-Slash, Party Mo Foes
What up yo? Thug nap in the door
All we know is get money, get high, fuck hoes
Send a key to the nap, still buck, still got it
Never lost it motherfucker, I'm the future Godfather
I'm the crazy ass cracker, not your ordinary rapper
BP City young and it roll with the trapper
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