Babyface Ray - Mob lyrics
Babyface Ray [Marcellus Rayvon Register] Detroit, Michigan, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Babyface Ray - Mob lyrics]
(Okay, KMoney)
We vibin' and shit, man
Don't get it fucked up though
Could never be that
Could never be that, man
Yeah
Ayy
I don't want you, I just wanna fuck you
(Yeah) , let your nigga love you
You on me 'cause I'm gettin' money
That's all you gettin' from me
(That's all)
She just wanna rock your chain
Just because your pendant flooded
Pray to God I make it off this
Shit 'cause all my niggas hustle
(I got to)
Niggas sending shots
But they don't never come direct
(Never)
I'm in the Rafs without the laces
But it's shoestrings on my TEC
I keep that Styro' on my right
But I spent blue cheese on my left
A hundred grams, it's fresh off the press
It's two G's on my belt
(Yeah)
I'm exhausted, I'm fresh off the road, man
Groupies give me sex
(Come on)
I'm a boss, don't let 'em lie
They might confuse me with the help
(They might)
Man, I'm cut from a different cloth
Yeah, I be drippin' sauce (Yeah)
I might have to sit and map
It out because these niggas lost
Advise you not to piss me off
One call and I can get you chalked (Hello?)
Do it on my own 'cause niggas snitchin'
That's what get you caught
I had a talk with God
Gave me the torch and I'ma never change
I had a talk with bro like
"What's a profit?" We press everything
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Ha, ayy
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Ayy
Got a nigga, bitch, why would I trust you?
(Yeah)
Drive me to Kentucky (Phew)
Turn you up, you might get lucky (You might)
Let her rock the buffies
Don't hate the player, hate the game, woah
I learned that from my uncle
Fuck the rappin', 'fore we had
It poppin', had the traps
Was jumpin'
Gotta get it, they won't feed you
Gotti, tell 'em, "Free you" (My nigga)
You the only one that seen it
We still here, no, I can't leave you
(Know that)
Like my wrist Patrón plat'
Catch me stuntin' out a beamer
They show love across the map
But just know this shit get evil
I got dollars on up
Tote 'em like they legal
(Yeah)
Fuck her like she mine
Hear a car, get in them blinds (I'm gone)
Thuggin' in disguise
I thank God I beat the odds (On God)
Stand on business, press the line
Give it all up to Siobhan
Doin' donuts in the Maz, donuts on the mob
It get hot, they switch up sides
It go up, then who gon' ride?
Screaming, "We the mob, free the mob
" that's on everything
(Free the mob)
Lil' cause clean him up for a dime
Waves on every chain
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Ha, ayy
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Money over bitches
Mo-mo-money over bitches, yeah
Ayy