M.E.M.P.H.I.S. lyrics

by

Project Pat


[DJ Paul] (Crunchy Black)
Finally, I got all real n*ggas on on a muthaf*ckin' Posse song
n*ggas that's down to cut some muthaf*ckin' heads
(Mafia, ya, y-ya, y-ya, ya, ya) [*repeats through whole song*]
From hear to ATL, to Nashville, back to the M-town n*gga
And you know what that mean b*tch
Makin' easy money, pimpin' hoes is serious b*tch
Makin' easy money, pimpin' hoes is serious n*gga

[Project Pat]
Call a n*gga, drug dealer, out here on the track n*gga
Weed smoker, coke snorter, come and get a pack n*gga
Cane slanger, b*tch banger, dog I'll bring it to ya
If you got a problem with me, holla at my Luger
Dro puffer, cheese come up, when we on the track jack
Hit you in the head, with the gat, 'til your skull crack
Blood gushin', head rushin', act first, no discussion
Come with that bullsh*t, then the bullets start bustin'

[Lord Infamous]
First crime, we came with Mystic Stylez on grime
You slip, I Live By My Rep don't f*ck with mine
Da End, the souls of men embedded inside the Posse
The Prophet, the Posse, we all collide
We brutal, the Chapter 2 to end the phase, our mind
In crime, reminds, CrazyNDaLazDayz
Hypnotize, and blazed another gold plate
Sixty 6, sixty 1, The Smoke Clears, evaporate
[Juicy J]
I got a 357, a tec with a black clip
A 180 pounds witha fist that will bust lips
Some killaz on my side, if I tell 'em they gon' get
A fool violatin' the business, I ain't wit'
And now in 2000 you talkin' the same sh*t
And now in 2000 I'll bust and I won't miss
The smoke is in the air the liquor is still a fifth
The grill is still gold, and the curls they know kick doors

[Young Buck]
The first one to bust his gun, hollow tips come by the ton
Two AK's, and put some drama to leave this n*ggas bodies numb
I don't talk this sh*t for fun, c*ck it back and let it go
And 6 shots, from the 3-6 shooters lettin' 'em know, WHOA!
Picture me, naked face, to kickin' in your door
4, n*ggas deep, bandanas with black calicos
So, when we creep, drop cause I'mma hit you nine times
Take your nine lives, Young Buck and Hypnotize your mind, blow

[Crunchy Black]
You can believe this, you can believe that
And believe I got a baseball bat
And I'm bustin' your head black
You believe I'm comin' strong
You believe I'm all grown
You believe, that n*gga, I love to get it on
You half steppin' I got the weapon Boom! Boom!
I'm blastin' at your mind to get you believe that
I love to kill, I love the thrill
And I love to put a n*gga body parts in the field, n*gga
[La Chat]
No no, come, come and get this b*tch
Ain't got no time fo no sh*t
Got all my boys, don't make no noise
Just throw that trick in the ditch
It ain't no way La Chat gon' let it slide
With the sh*t that you done
I got my piece for what I do
To show you who the f*ck number one
I shot that b*tch without causes, ain't got no love in my heart
It ain't no way that I can't handle, keep that tone in my jaw
This ain't no crap, I speak the truth
Gotta come too thick to get me
On one of you hoes, before you come
La Chat ain't gone easy

[Koopsta Knicca]
Man a b*tch'll take that lil bit out her pus*y for them papers
Get the f*ck away from me ho
Because the crew can't stand them vapors
Take her, break her, to whip that funky b*tch
Talkin' that sh*t about this
Man you'll get 10 slugs up in your arm pits
Yeah we can do it take your time and do it right
You can gimme the f*ckin' chewin', I can f*ck you all night
Wanna fight about your friends
See how them b*tches gon' start
See now that's that type of sh*t
That get my muh'f*ckin' di*k hard
[T-Rock]
Capital Mack-11's, and load 'em full of ammunition
Terrorist sect's, we pull and lock'em in the Expedition
No set a n*ggas got guns equivalent to what we pack
Nuclear pistols and fire scorchin' automatic gats
How in the f*ck can you handle the, busta damager
Toss that b*tch over the bannister, like trash canisters
Hollow points into your battle troops, when I have to shoot
Plus I'll be storin' the cap for you when drinkin' Absolute

[MC Mack]
I woke up early Saturday morning, cellullar phone was ringin' off the charger
Thinkin' to myself, man, is it a b*tch, a cop, or is it them robbers?
Plottin' MC Mack off in a scheme, I'm stainin' for my dividends
And pay a lemon lame n*gga no part of my cheese, gon' reach the ceilling fan
You can catch my in that purple that thang, on gizold when you see me
You can joke me and provoke me, best believe you'll bleed this evenin'
f*ck the reason, and the treason, when it's time to get dirty n*gga bet I'll pop it
You was gaspin' for your life, but all I heard was Killa Klan Kaze

[DJ Paul]
b*tches think we playin', think this killa sh*t a joke
Don't f*ck around with HCP and get you ass smoked, ho
Comin' with some fully auto's, f*ck some semi's
Hit 'em with some hollow auto's, cause I desp-iz-ise
Blastin' like some rondo batays, for you mayatez
Koop with double clicks and duct tape, and wicked wizays
Anna I prefer it, keep me busy in my free time
Taught 'em in that buried unknown, they want a reason why
Give you second thoughts about that business, you then finished right
Take you to the vault, cash it in, all night flight
And I'm in a bad mood, cocaine make it that
Plus, I gotta ease on this nine-milly, willy, n*gga I slang with that
b*tch, n*gga, it's CP n*gga
HCP, Hypnotize Camp Posse n*gga
What, what, it's CP n*gga
HCP, Hypnotize Camp Posse n*gga
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