Z-Ro - That Mo lyrics

Mo City Mo City, I got love for you
I layed up in jail
Plus spilled and lost blood for you
They use to say we was a fashion show
Because it was true
We can't help it if we got money
But we'll murder you too
If I beef with somebody
That's not successful like myself
I'm waging war against nothing
And I would need to check myself
Round here, everybody got a murder weapon
Not a beginner's pistol
Leave and lease a 3-57
If it's breathing and it's walking
And it's talking it's a man
So I've got no reason to fear it
I'll drop it where it stand
Won't even say I'm real
Cause real got too many new definitions
All I know, I begin and complete my mission
You got a problem with me, address it
Don't throw a rock into a pack of dogs
Seeing if rover gon' get the message
I stay ready to rumble
Or to let them guns buck
I'm out that Mo, and I don't give a fuck

I'm out that Mo, and I don't give a fuck
With a weapon in my waist
Everyday when you see me walking around
I'm out that Mo, and I don't give a fuck
Bitch stop playing with me
Stop playing with me
I'm out that Mo, and I don't give a fuck
With a weapon in my waist
Everyday when you see me walking around
I'm out that Mo, and I don't give a fuck
Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck

People wanna kick it with me
But I choose to be alone
Ain't nobody crazy about ya
That's why you on your own
That's including me
I'm not gon' invite you in my home
You might not do the right thang
And end up with a rifle at your dome
West Few Quay to the South Post, loc Dead End
This is an area you can get your bread in
Or come up dead in
Your ghetto, ain't no different from mine
But this the one I ride or
Die for at the proper time
Better respect my mind
Respect my mind, cause I'll kill you nigga
Like I don't see you, in my rearview nigga
I wish you would
Try to play me like I'm soft
Watch me throw this bitch in park
Hop out and knock your god damn head off
Ain't no calling 911, and that emergency
I'm calling Mike Newsome and Grey-D
If too many cowards trying to murder me
But, if it's my time
I guess I ran out of my luck
I'm out that Mo, and I don't give a fuck

Ridegmont, Ridgegate, Ride Gate, Provilla
Chasewood, Hunters Glenn y'all are
All my niggas
Southwest, Cross and Quill Valley, Quillrun
Fresno and Arcola, plus the Dub we all one
Hiram-Clarke, South Park
Sunnyside and the Third
4th Ward, 5th Ward, Trinity Garden ya heard
Hell yeah, Houston Teaxs we hot
If I forgot your hood blame
It on the weed man, that's why I forgot
I'm at the shooting range
Jacking like I'm busting my beat
To me it ain't no difference
Between the shooting range and the streets
Do you while you with your people
Like I caught you alone
You about to make history
But your people gon' make it home
I'd rather be a lover, not a fighter
Instead of picking up a gun
I'd rather pick up a blunt and a lighter
But it is what it is
Y'all already know what's up
I'm out that Mo, and I don't give a fuck