anacron - sturdy mobbin' lyrics
[verse 1]
four fly n-ggas in an asian whip
better yet, v-tech civic, fitted with a major kit
dipped! front and back panes got tint
sober, not bent homie, ’cause i got sense
and fools can’t hold us
every chance we get, we serve it up the coldest
i’ll never sport camo with the green guys
i’d rather sport bow ties slangin’ bean pies
i rock thrifty t-shirts every month
with nudie denim (that’s raw cut)
i’m finna get rich
’cause life ain’t nothing but money, f-ck a b-tch
lay them down like dominoes
and if you didn’t know, anacron got a lot of hoes
so after i tap that
i hit and quit it, get fitted in olivers and a black hat
i’m on the move
all you’re going to get is some dap and an att-tude
buckle up and mash out like batman and robin
b-tch, ’cause anacron is mobbin’
[hook]
have you ever seen such a sight in your life? (st-rdy mobbin’)
[verse 2]
rumble with thunder sticks
i’d rather be locked in a cell than buried under it
plus i’m getting grands, boy
f-ck iphone, move to android
told all my friends
“don’t imitate, yawl; decimate these little trends”
fools get drunk and want to compete
rap battles in the street
rappers get mad, tempers are flaring
because we’ve got a few slimmies staring
trying to impress a dime
but scandalous b-tches waste your precious time
i make it my duty to cuss ’em
out ’cause i just don’t trust ’em
this bumperhead-hipster-skateboard-betty
should’ve already known anacron is mobbin’
[hook]
[verse 3]
since one-time’s so hot
got me a stash box in the honda for the glock
and i’m rolling black spokes
eating soul food from serving spoon with a silver fork
maxin’ like a muhfuh
greasy–ss fingers make it hard to turn the bump up
saw mtm bellin’
put the window down, straight yellin, “what up loc”
don’t you know that homies get ganked
walking around here like it’s straight? get in fool
i’ll swoop you to the pad soon
stop at taco bell and drop a load in the bathroom
messaging the contract-writers
coming out feeling about ten pounds lighter
hit up ak “what up wit’it, jack?”
finna hit the spot dj mda’s spinnin’ at
mikecheck turn it up like ramps
and fools try to bite like vamps
jedi make tramps get damp
gallery, blowin’ up your amps
get down, b-tch
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