โหลดเพลง mp3 Posse Song (feat. Lil Wyte & Frayser Boy) - Three 6 Mafia

Posse Song - Three 6 Mafia/Lil Wyte/Frayser Boy
You know what
I don't even wanna do an introduction man
You know I'm saying
Just play that sh*t man

Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
With an all-star cast on the Hypnotize Minds roster
You a crop-duster sprinkling seasoning
We some flyin' saucers
Keep away from what cha know
Twice as far from whatcha don't
Consequences come to those
Who chose to f**k with us lily ho
All we do is make our music
Keep away from usin' units
Sometimes when they push my crazy button
And then I abuse it
All I publish is the truth
Lil wide playin' by the rules
F**k on us and make a choices 2
And end up dyin' foo
I got a pound from Paul and J
Just a call away
It's time to do some dirt
Blast that ball away
They playin' with dogg today
I'm real that's all the way
I'm tryin' a get that money dogg
I never stall the pay
Got bottles I brought a K
At ten I caught a case
The early bird gets the first worm
Don't stall today
Get paid till holiday
We tough from snow to tree
Block a ni**a shine
Motherf**ka you on the way
I think I got 'em scared
Is it because I'm wit' that six
Or is it because they all can suck a dick
I'm a shoot you all
Just like a b**ch
And when you see me
Don't be actin' like you know me trick
No competition y'all niggas bitchin'
Won't you sit down somewhere and just listen

Don't hate ni**a don't hate
"Yeah I Rob" and I'll say it to you face
At summer Jam-ah
Yeah this b**ch was talkin' slander
We caught him slippin' up
And we hit him with' them hammers
It was glamour
To beat him down like Evander
Dream the playa life
Or I'll cut you like a panther
He a "Winstar"
Sucker far from a gangsta
If that boy was locked in jail
Those niggas probably shank you
He started runnin'
Like a b**ch a scurry woman
I heard he into suckin' dicks
And lickin' niggas cummin'
I wish a motherf**ka would
Put his hands on me
Have his cranium poppin' off
Like John Kennedy
Send your enemies to this devilish heart of
Startin' at the kindergarten
Grab at you toddler
Soul say

A machine gun killin'
When I slice intestines
They fall out cha belly
I pump-pump squeeze
Trigga swing blades throw grenades
C-4 in your mouth blow your a** away say belay
Now Hypnotize Minds
Back on the grind
I just shot my nine
For the very nine time
It was little b**ch ni**a
That's a killer on CD
But couldn't back it up
When I saw him at

And I ain't that evil
I hope the ni**a get well
Claim he solid as a rock
But I seen his face swell
Now go and tell your mama
That sissy mister
Kill yourself
Triple six is that truth
We ain't no motherf**kin fairy-tale
Ye ain't dreaming
Hoooo
Hoooo
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia
Mafia mafia-ya-ya mafia