M.m.o. - I 95 lyrics

rate me

[Itchy Fingas Sha]I'm on the I-95, my eyes red, swervingIn the Suburban, wit this chick from Mount VernonDime piece wit an ass ya peeps trynna peepBut she ride wit me, so she strapped wit ki'sTucked in her weave, shout didn't take holes about the cityAnd take M.M.O. being in luxury, you work for meLike Charlie's Angels, my hoes will bang youAnd snap bracelets, yo, get that diamond ring tooOn some fishing in the field, when she cocking the steelPopping the steel, niggas better popping the pillAnd lay low, you get dough, I'm like, ey-yo, where the yae yoAnd took a slow nigga, let's play in the snowBlaze the dro like we ain't got nowhere to goWe capable to do anything, we capable to blow[Trigg-nomm]Two heaters, in the two seaters, sweating neeta beatersP.O.T., low key, wit po' KitaPoting this deep, stinky sticky broccoliOn some cops, please, police can't stop thesePublic Enemies, Flav and Chuck D.Millennium S1 Dub, chameleonsKidnap civilians, wives and childrenMy dogs get hungry, appetites get uglyStraight yae and bake Pacino witIn the Casino, playing for KenoStraight New Jack niggas, we NinoAnd G-Money, see money? Ain't shit funnySo don't laugh, cuz it's not a gameSpit the calico, fast glock, glide ya brainWhole M.M.O. squad insaneRepertoire be mobsta, off the chainLadies be straight dimes, packing baby ninesBout it babies, intertwine wit crimeHold in they vagin', thong in they behindFirst class, on American Airline[Itchy Fingas Sha]10 O'clock in the morning, my phone ringingYo, I'm at the Four SeasonsFor some reasons, I just cock the heatersWaiting for this package, that we shipped out of MedinaLast week, while this bitch stay in Taj uniqueShe had a body that was fine and neatAnd all that coke that she bringing, where you hiding it?Yo, shorty was tight, but if the drug ain't here tonightI'mma make a phone call, have my niggas blow the top off your housePop ya spouse, don't forget the dough on the couchLast year he made a biz, slaying crack in the house[Trigg-nomm]Either shorty disappeared, or shorty was goneEither dough be slow, or the dough be longGot the same gun, in head hunters, spot runnersStuntmen, top gunners, money loversNo loses, four horsemen, killing horsesYa'll flossing, on some, rip me offSee I got the tip off, get a hit to tee offRetaliate, snakes beat, evaluateIt was the crack of dawn, when I heard the hornGot a call from Now Born, and codes I caught onYo shorty's gone, and I got the breadStraight M.M.O. steelo, left him for dead, biatch