MUN-E

MUN-E - Fo Sho lyrics

rate me

(feat. Baby Beesh, L.T., SPM, Tommy G)

Fo sho, smoking choppers and helicopters

Zippers and kicking trippers, fo sho

Fo sho, better have the bread

Fo sho, nigga gon end up dead

Fo sho, riding on them chromed out twins

Fo sho, young nigga you best stack your ends

Fo sho, nigga better do your thang

Fo sho, face down in this game

Fo sho, fo sho

[L.T.]

Now let me introduce myself, its Mr. PMG

Nigga your boy L.T., that represent B-O-D

I stay on track and stay on grind, toss it up and shut it down

Represent for H-Town, pop my trunk and show some ride

And if they coming with some plex, we breaking backs and snapping necks

Putting bitch niggas in check, hit your block and straight wreck

Naw I mean nigga we coming, you and your boys start to running

Fore' my K start to drumming, have your whole hood humming

Tear it up don't give a fuck, we keeping lean up in our cup

Its Southeast nigga what, we got them Caddies on the bump

With wood grain, swang and bang, make it hot like a flame

Its four hundred for them thangs, you keep it cool it might change

And that's for real nigga chill, me and my boys staying trill

Down in H-Town with them grills, slabbed out and popping pills

[Mun-E]

Got the game and perfected, I found the shop and then wreck it

Competition gets corrected, by this lyrical lethal weapon

Steadily chilling my checking, so bustas keep on stepping

I'm Phat Money connected, your rank you better protect it

Expect the unexpected, what you can't see or feel

Or you gone, respect this is kinda like popping a pill

When the pain gets hectic, for when the rain gets reckless

Its a damn shame they sweat this, my diamond rings and necklace

Throwed in the game from Texas, and still breaking em off

And get tossed when I floss, cause I'm representing the South

[Hook x2]

Cause I'm all about my paper, everyday a

Straight heart breaker, guaranteed to spray ya

We are, making a move to make em bounce

Dropping lyrics in these rhymes, popping game from the South

[SPM]

Its all gravy its all groovy, I smoke em like a doobie

Feed him lead for what he said, put him to bed like Sleeping Beauty

Stay aware for what's out there, I smell hate all in the air

Someone asked me what my race was, I told em it was player

Very rare, my breed is almost extinct, the way I walk

The way I think, the shit I wear, the shit I drink

The way I stink, I smell like fruity hydro ponic

When haters see my car, they turn around and vomit

Mama mia, Versacci clothes from the galleria

I fuck a country singer, and a Houston ballerina

Chef Coy, cooking ice cream on my stove top

As your bitch, lick my dick like a blow pop

From the old spot, when I dance I do the robot

Got hoes across Texas, from Dallas to Beaumont

Still I'm loco, fuck any player hating hotho

You ain't got no love for me, then I ain't got no love down poco

[Hook]

[Baby Beesh]

Its the return of the grain gripper, main nigga, cocaine flipper

Drain dripper, its Baby Basherini man a brain ripper

Strange liquor, in the mix like margarita

Keep a heater millimeter, in my vita plus a two liter

Salty latino, throwing bombs like Dan Marino

Pacino, I'm down and dirty when it come to my c-notes

I'm off the chizzle when I sizzle, doing my thug thizzle

On the rizzle, these playas gon blow my duz fizzle

What's really, bullets floating like a yacht

17 motherfuckers dead let em rot, gotta get my scratch right

So nigga act right, don't make me buck em

And if these fools make a move, well then my...motherfuck em

[Hook]

[Tommy G]

Well I'm in to potent paper, major dived-ends

Snatching breaking lyrics, fucking bitches best friends

Can painted legendary streets, or wrapping bricks cooking cheese

Living major bout my paper, keeping hoes bending knees

Drop it like to ease my stress, puffing on hydro leaves

Rolling only with my team, breaking bread forfilling needs

Its a way of life, that was destined in my plan

Prices steep when I creep, shipping unloaded from bands

[Hook x2]

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