M.m.o. - We M.m.o. lyrics

rate me

We M.m.o. / M.m.o.[Itchy Fingas Sha]I got that new Benz truck on them 22'sI hit the club, I'mma slide wit a broad or twoPop bottles wit the crew, you know how a don doSee the chain in the ring, bitch, admire the crewIt's M.M.O. Officials, so clear the space when we come throughUnless you wanna be that nigga that we run throughLittle broccoli on the waist, for your get rich schemesI got a team, that'll leave you looking like Mitch GreenAnd get this cream, we plot, sit and schemeAnd shit get mean, we got M-16'sAnd a fiend, that'll lead you right straight to the spotSame fiend last week, lead you straight to the copsBelieve it or not, I don't a give a fuck you breathing or notCatch me on your block, you gon' be bleeding a lotSo be easy, while the paramedics loading the cartCuz if you breathing, it's a reason, why you won't holding these shots[Chorus: Trigg-nomm]We straight pimping in this gameBe bout money for this fameTwisting 20's when we blaze, we M.M.O.We got wifeys, we got kidsCats get sheisty, we push wigsAin't no life if we can't live, we M.M.O.[Trigg-nomm]I got a band on my pinky, left hand on my twinkieBitch I'm the man, why you so stinkyFlow chinky, like I'm high and my eyes lowSpeech splur, like I dive in some hydroWise growing kilo's in the tombs tankI'm the cool state, playing cee-lo, taking dudes bankSee I'm a O.G. now, I got full rankSo when the Klik Ga Bow, let's do some more rankAnd if I snatch you child, I just called bankI want the nicest ices, shit that's pricelessI'm into heistless, snipe shit, I likes thisI just fall back and say "I got it"Or you gon' get a call back, saying I shot itI'm never spotted, see I'm low like Gary Cole'Somewhere far, g, in a FerrariFucking a black Barbie, spitting that star street[Chorus][Trigg-nomm]Yo, what you know about hundred thousand dollar withdrawersIn a villa wit high yellow stillas and no drawersFour runners, Hummers, Porsches on 24'sMoney Makin' Operations, wit no lawsMoney Members Only, status in the outdoorsStash cash indoors, glass for outdoorsClash wit outlaws, we bash without pauseThe last cat you see, before you get wit the lord[Itchy Fingas Sha]I bang at your doors, a real nigga get your broadFront the crib wit the semi automatic four-fourJust waiting, for the right time to get at your whoreGet the info to low lab, where you got kinfolkTowns in the dressers, rounds and ammunitionAnd a stolen blue tempers, banging competitionMy prediction is, one of ya'll niggas gon' be missingIn the river wit the fishes, or digging your own wit ya[Chorus]