Mobbin’ lyrics

by

Black Soprano Family


[Intro: Chase Fetti]:
Uh
Y'all know me
(Griselda)
Heem
Switchin' up, n*gga
Look (Brrrr)

[Verse 1: Chase Fetti]:
I told my plug that I need it he said he got it (He got it)
Baking soda, pyrex, and then you gotta chop it (Whip it)
Give a couple samples out before you get that block lit (Uhuh)
My n*ggas really pop sh*t (Brr), I let my gun blow
I'm like Mutumbo with this block sh*t (Bah bah bah bah bah...)
We don't rumble, n*gga, we just let that Glock spit (Uhuh)
Hot 16s on them, MAC with the beam on 'em (Brrrr)
Catch me OT sh*t, he know we got some beams on 'em (Y'all know me)
My real life is like a dream for him (Hahaha)
Yeah, and we ain't coppin' nothin' over 40, n*gga (Nothin')
I know the prices I been hustlin' since a shorty, n*gga (I been in it)
I'm in the fast car, switchin' lanes to nothin' but some Tauri? (Skrrr)
All face shots, give a n*gga (Buckets like I'm Horry?) (Bah bah bah bah...)
This just my story, I'm just livin' n*ggas' truths (Uhuh)
From the brawls to the shootout, to the pigeon on the stoop
I'm a God load the B, I get vicious in the booth (Uhuh)
Sell a hard like CP, I be givin' n*ggas oops (Y'all know me)
[Verse 2: B$F Heem]:
36 O's and 8 big A's to make a brick
Take a whole nine ounces in shake, and play the strip
MAC-11 with the smart air holes, come spray the strip (Brrr)
Now you live on FOX 5 at 5, let's shoot a clip
Shooter aimin' with a long Tre-5, right through the dip
Gon' be a vegetable if he survive, walk with a limp
Bad b*tch, that'll shoot while I drive, I know a trick
These n*ggas gamblin' with they lives, I'm throwin' trips (Brrr)
It's me and F, I'm with the most f*ck with some Crips
I'm 700 throwin' up foes I'll get you clipped
I'm wit' my wolves run with some zoes I'll get you hit
See my kit froze, diamonds and gold, die for this sh*t (n*gga)
3 letters, all VVS stones ride for this sh*t
'Member times I had a 3.5 strive for a brick
Or 25-62 at a time, ridin' with grits (n*gga)
Now I'm spendin' what I made off a 9, shoppin' at Fifth's n*gga (Uh)

[Verse 3: Billy V]:
Huh, religious candle on my gun barrel (Santeria joint)
Label you food and have my hunter snack you
Think you that dude that had my dun clap you (Who that n*gga)
Little b*tch, me myself I'll slap you (Right now)
Stop lookin' baffled I was destined to patch you
Fat raps to patch me, sold dope pulled straps
On the phone with my brimo back home, cabron (Mana ese?)
Where the f*ck the cocaine at?
Si señor, I pray the Chapo send more
Mi amor (Ma ma ma...), suck di*k and transport
Arguin' with rich, slapboxin' with poor
[?] deep with robbery, and that n*gga extorts
Think this sh*t a game, let's play Puto Bloodsport
Shooter said "Benny get them" and I got them of course
One damo sel dinero 'cause you never know
Ain't no 4-1 K's when you sell kilos
Ya mamo sa Colombia they gon' send more yola
I told you that before now the patch is Sinaloa
You talkin' if you get it, I'm hablando a ora (Man)
[Verse 3: Benny the Butcher]:
Yeah, uh, we mobbin', as usual, I'm losin' you
My business tight as super glue (Ah)
I'm gettin' n*ggas clipped and payin' for funerals (n*gga)
I'm rich and my rep don't gotta stay in this sh*t to prove to you (Uh-uh)
She said "I don't know you, I seen your chain and had to Google you" (Really...?)
I'm clearin' real numbers (Uhuh), that appeal to real hustlers
Versace carpet in the Benz that match the steering wheel cover
Family man, 'bout to hand these bands to my little brothers
Candyman, say my name and I appear in real colors (The Butcher comin')
I got a migo out west so them kilos get stamped wet
I got a little b*tch from Brooklyn who told me I can't dress (Hahaha)
I did a buck down rodeo no top on a ten vet (Skrrrr)
And yes n*gga I'm one of them rappers you can't check
Real stories 'bout my life but this not how y'all frauds doin' (Y'all n*ggas frontin')
Y'all just tell a buncha lies and exaggerate in y'all music
Askin' Jackson with that 4-pound you know how the squad doin' (Brrrr)
When in Lake City jumped out the whip with the car movin'
When they hit pass the blick to my b*tch, let my bro shoot it
I got 4 or 5 loyals retained and they all Jewish (Straight)
I'm nowhere near chef, but a brick I can cook
So I'm real as it gets (As it gets), and I'm rich as I look (Ah), n*gga, ah
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