Smoked Out, Loced Out lyrics

by

Project Pat


[Chorus: Lord Infamous, Lil Buck]
Triple Six Mafia, Mafia
Smoked out, smoked out
Loced out, smo-smoked out
Smoked out
Triple Six Mafia, Mafia
Smoked out, smoked out
Loced out, smo-smoked out
Smoked out
Triple Six Mafia, Mafia
Smoked out, smoked out
Loced out, smo-smoked out
Smoked out
Triple Six Mafia, Mafia
Smoked out, smoked out
Loced out, smo-smoked out
Smoked out
Triple Six Mafia, Mafia

[Verse 1: Gangsta Blac]
Woke up early Tuesday morning, on that Devil sh*t
Time to hit the track, I got a sack, now where is Triple Six?
Ridin' through the park, tryin' to find a n*gga at the store
Cheese is what I'm makin', 'cause I'm wakin' up all on the floor
If you think I'm lyin', or you think that you can test nuts
Paul with the forty-five, shoot him in his f*ckin' guts
Killa goin' insane in the brain, all aboard on the train
Funky Town, Funky Town, gotta stop, get a pack
Now I'm high, really high, mane, I'm about to shout
South Park, Gangsta Blac, Triple 6, smoked out
Loced out! (Triple Six Mafia)
[Verse 2: Lord Infamous]
It seems, the X to the X Triple times a six thousand degrees
The Triple 6 Mafia droppin' the weight on yo' ass like a million OZs
You see, the J, the O, the I-N-T
Lord Infamous smokin' these n*ggas like a f*ckin' terrorist from third world countries
I need to break down a pound, and go load up the C-L-I-P
A busta, a busta, could never
Could never come f*ck with, fu-f*ck w-with me
Lord the G, that's slippin' up, chief up on the ganja trees
They wish to approach the Scarecrow in the smoke
But they can't face fatality
See the movies, Scarecrow, Gotti, Carlito, Montana, and Hoffa
All of us, down with the Triple 6 Mafia, b*tch

[Chorus: Lord Infamous, Lil Buck]
Triple Six Mafia, Mafia
Smoked out, smoked out
Loced out, smo-smoked out
Smoked out
Triple Six Mafia, Mafia
Smoked out, smoked out
Loced out, smo-smoked out
Smoked out
Triple Six Mafia, Mafia

[Verse 3: Project Pat, Buckshot]
(Murderers, robbers) n*ggas with some charges
n*ggas you don't underestimate, 'cause we don't bar this
Bullsh*t, the Triple 6, b*tch, I got a sawed-off
Walk up to yo' house, knock on yo' door, and blow yo' ass off
Tear it off, fool, that's yo' head with these buckshots
Ridin' in your neighborhood, b*tch, with the Glock c*cked
Pop, pop, 'til you drop, body lit up like a fuse (*gunshots*)
Head back to the hood, then, watch you on the news
Confused as hell, when you fall in the click
But that's what you get when you f*ck with the Triple 6, b*tch!
[Verse 4: Kingpin Skinny Pimp, DJ Paul]
Don't pretend, snitch, all you tr'izz'nicks wanna front my style
Bloody Glock handled to yo' face, it's time to buck 'em down
I don't love ho's, man, I'm aimin' at yo' skull
di*kity duckin' from bullets won't help
When I pull out the twelve gauge, releasin' the slugs (Ho)
You brand new b*tches better catch up with yo' kind
You was slippin', now, see, Triple 6 in my mind

[Verse 5: Juicy J]
North Memphis n*ggas, Triple 6 n*ggas
Real ass killas, quick to pull the trigger
And not barin' no b*tch, and not takin' no sh*t
Smoked out, loced out, ridin' with the pistol grip
Click up on yo' ho ass, leave you lyin' in the grass
Khaki suits, black mask, n*gga, I'm about to blast
On these mothaf*ckas thinkin' that Juice Manne is a joke
Tryin' to test my pimpin', f*ck around, and get yo' ass smoked
Claim you with that Devil sh*t? Come and join the Triple Six
Don't cross the line, b*tch
And get yo' wig split

[Verse 6: DJ Paul]
First I grab the pump, and pump, shoot a punk n*gga down
Clown like a f*ckin' psychopath to them Triple 6 sounds
M-Town, down killas love to squeeze on them triggers
Trigger the Killa Man answers within the mind of another figure
Figure out, what form will the Devil confront you in
Transform into a friend, and note takin', life is at the end
Ends of the Earth, hide secrets of your birth
How you live is how you die, but in the end, we all afraid
You pus*y b*tch mothaf*ckas, rumors startin' trick
Sissy ass side bustas, suck a n*gga di*k
di*k deep in the mouth of a talkin' ass coward
n*gga, you a duck, your named oughta be Howard
And how would a regular n*gga survive against them Sixes?
You fool makin' b*tches, don't get dumped in ditches
Lord Infamous bust, biggidy-bust on these bustas
Take 'em out, we smoked out, we loced out
Loced out, loced out, loced out, loced out
[Outro: DJ Paul]
Yeah you know I'm sayin'
You n*ggas can't f*ck with the Triple Six!
b*tch!

[Beavis & Butthead sample]
Haha, you dumb ass
Haha
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net