YMCMB MMG

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Cory Gunz] Stare's blank when the trigger face Lil' nigga with a bigger base Know me young homie here's some money, you wonder now I'll make 2012 with a number dial Talking that shit Don't know who they rappin' with Pause, I say fuck I'm fast, rabbit dicks I turn the booth to a maggot pit She appear when I wave it's the David magic wrist Can't none of you bitches see me like my mother home She's bitching her dog is back with another bone Hollar for a dollar to swallow back I hit her right off of Twitter, follow that I'm booking face, my network is social Young Money, Cash Money, we coach who coach you Slow up them Protools with them loco vocals What you know to, don't do, nigga I'm your go-tos, go-to guy Once you try I approach you quiet with the toast too Fire, I will smoke you Tie, any man bear hand choke you Silence is what I go to Violent burner in the safe, burner in the car And the plates burner on the waist Find the burner and they solving the case Murder in the place, let is dislove in his waist I don't give a fuck if your moms and all is in the play Get your pops, get popped, nigga pop off Get a drop, in the city chopped, get in knocked off Glock and it getting hot, knock ya socks off Get clocked, when it tick, get tocked off Block niggas by the block when its blocked off Swat looking for the yacht when is docked off In the spot where niggas plot to get bopped, pause And when the waps stop then ya top off [Verse 2: Meek Mill] YMCMB Double M G, you know me Old school flow like Kool Moe Dee Coastal flow, I move low key Make a move OT Get a brick for the low 95 South get a chick that would go Every thirty six let the bitch get an O I put it in the hood that bitch better snow In the middle of summer, do numbers Niggas better run from us that, in front us That Mac-10 with a drummer, they want us Tell them niggas run up, get done up When that automatic get clapping like Cory Gunz when he rapping That shit be spitting so fast and my niggas we platinum And I'm On the way I'm going gold, I put my pressy on Thirty thou like I got a Camero Chevy on I go loud around the neck give em a heavy one And niggas sleeping on me, guess I get my Freddy on Nightmare on you record label I tell em put the dirty money on the other table You ever seen a hundred racks off fiend money That Martin Luther King, I had a dream money I can tell you niggas never seen money We selling white girl, getting Christine money Aguilera, I'm in the Panamera Niggas whisper when I come through, I can barely hear em I know these suckas looking, they can't see me though My daddy in the graveyard I let you meet him though They call me, mister fuck a nigga, I don't need a ho Cause I got my paper up, it's time to get my haters up I'm gone Bitch I'm gone Double-M G YMCMB