lirik lagu mike smiff – intro
n~ggas told me you can’t go to war ’til you get your money right n~gga
well i done got with the money team
trick daddy told me i can talk my sh~t
touche told me i can talk my motherf~cking sh~t n~gga
slip~n~slide records we the motherf~cking mob n~gga
mike smiff, mr. florida, mr. down south dade county turnpike south exit 6 b~tch
m.i.a.m.i. we got the motherf~cking streets now n~gga yes sir
touche, trick yall put yall feet up, i got this sh~t
right hand on a stack of bibles, i will slap the sh~t out of one these b~tch~ass n~ggas
dade county, we back yes sir
reporting live from the dope whole
n~gga m.i.a. we got the streets in a choke whole
f~ck n~gga where that money at
look me in my eyes, welcome to the mind of a maniac
man, i just don’t give a f~ck
take me to any ‘hood, drop me off, i’m ‘a run it up
i’m a motherf~cking rider
a hustler, go~getter, survivor
i understand ain’t n0body finna give me shut
dropped out of high school went to drilling sh~t
young n~ggas slanging hammers like i’m building sh~t
murder one ain’t nothing, i’ll k!ll a b~tch
went to jail, told the judge i was innocent
kept my mouth closed n~gga, i was militant
my whole team got federal indictments
b~tch you couldn’t walk a mile in these nikes
still in the streets
still got that fie stuff down in my briefs
still with the smoke
my n~gga still in the ’hood still selling dope
we ain’t going back broke
n~gga how would you react with your back to the ropes
n~ggas already know
i done been in that pressure and ain’t never fold
slip~n~slide over anything
we don’t rock tight shirts we don’t rock skinny jeans
still let our pants sag
n~gga pocket full of racks, n~gga we don’t rock man bags
finna take it back to the streets
i might rock d~ckies all week
i might go and buy a benz
i might mask up and break buddy roe out the pen
this that miami knight sh~t
that convertible bert rick brownlee and ike sh~t
bo diddly, bunky brown, and pop young
ump jr walker, and sunny bun
uncle al would be proud of me
in a chevy with a 3.5 on that loud on me
riding ’round with my music up booted up
n~gga run up on me i’m ‘a shoot ’em up
real n~ggas in the building, n~gga what it do
b~tch i’m mike smiff, who the f~ck is you?
you ain’t talking about money, it don’t matter
young n~ggas in the field like a cattle
n~gga we ain’t scared of nothing but a gavel
a n~gga still will never snitch, never tattle
always got fire like a candle
always got a bag like santa
big guns, quarter keys, and lawyer fees
alcoholics, dead bodies, and narcotics
n~gga, i done seen it all
i done seen it all
i just want to ball
i just want to ball
run it up, run it up, run it up n~gga
a quarter million dollars ain’t enough n~gga
we need ms on ms on ms
i’m trying to pull up in the foreign with the rims
r.i.p. rey day got d~mn
he was there when i was shooting in the gym
i done lost a whole lot
my word my b~lls and this glock all i got
can’t stop ’til i make it to the top
can’t stop ’til my pockets full of knots
redrum got sticks for the opps
riding around with them brooms and them mops
i do it for the gangstas and the thugs
i do it for the n~ggas in the mob
i do it for all the single mothers
i do it for the people in the struggles
i do it for the dealers and the strippers
i do it for the smugglers and the [?]
i do it for the n~ggas in the pen
slip~n~slide records we gon’ get it in
ain’t got a job but i’m finna go to work
n~gga intervene, we gon’ put him in a he~rs~
we finna lock this rap sh~t down
came for the check, we ain’t come to play ’round
we got the heat, we got the streets
you don’t f~ck with us n~gga you ain’t finna eat
p~ssy~ass n~gga, get down or lay down
y’all n~ggas name don’t hold weight now
hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
we the big black rock wilders on the block
eyes low looking like i just woke up
team full of hittas, who the f~ck want what
big bucks, big cars, big trucks
ninty six 2pac hit ’em up
mike smiff putting it all on the line
and slip~n~slide finna shine like it’s ninty nine lil b~tch
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