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clika one - mexican mobsters lyrics

[sample]
“at that time, vegas was a place where
millions of suckers flew in every year on thier own nickel
and left behind about a billion dollars
but at night
you couldn’t see the desert that surrounds las vegas
but it’s in the desert where lot of the town’s problems are solved” –] robert de niro

[verse 1: bad boy]
mobbin’ down the street with a blue rag
and a sack and i look to the side like a pimp in the game (popo, what’s your name)
bad boy from the c-l, i-k, with the a on the d-l
so where’s the p-o’s
duckin’ down on the motherf-ckin’ side cause they’re lookin’ for my primos
what the f-ck they want to d-o
with the lex and them hoes
and a pocket full of c-notes
and we mobbin’ in some regals
but we can’t hit the strip cause the strippers like pat down
get the guzzle, put the gat down
we’re the fools that we talkin’, so we got to put the smack down
but the levas always back down
mad dog and fixin’, let ’em know, but i got to hit that douja k!ller weed
jumped up in my birthday suit, addin’ honies in my k!ller bee
better be
cause you never see three loc’ed up, hold up
there they go, put the dot to thier dome, chrome .45
c-cked backed, ready, tell me when, aim steady, loco
let it go, loco, let ’em know, that i spray with the
a.k
all day, every day, til the day that i never should’ve die, should’ve known
that we gang bang, take it like a man, but treat him like a b-tch
cause he’s from the other side
bang, bang
when i k!ll ’em off, fill ’em all, full of bullet holes
f-ggot p-ssy gotta go, turn around
put your loc’s on, keep on actin’ hard in the yard, trucha
cut ya two more to let you know and there’s plenty more to go
one, two, three motherf-ckers graves, laid down by the loco ese brown
hypnotized by the pound, that scattered ’round, beatin’ every clown
copycattin’ on my muh’f-ckin’ sound
hold ’em up
take the crown, let me be the king, let me do my thing
let the bullets reign, motherf-cker slain
take the life of an enemy, sh-t, instead of me, let me see
if the murder’s screamin’ meaning anything, seven-oh
with a two, ’bout to strap
and a sack, and a gat, matter of fact, look at that, motherf-cker
got shot through the back, smackdown, nothin’ cold in the cadillac
cause i had a strap on my motherf-ckin’ side

chorus: brown
my clip is fully loaded, got my cuete right beside me
i’m born to die, so let these motherf-ckers find me
i show no love when i’m unloadin’ out the chamber
buck {-gunshot-}
that’s what you get for tryin’ to put my life in danger

repeat chorus

[verse 2: brown]
if i ride on crypts
cl!ck, pull out your vusca, let see who’s packin’ the big nuts
look at that
hit ’em up, with the big gat, now the homie don’t know how to act
clika
vamos chingamos, any vatos tryin’ to act bad, matamos
any b-tches tryin’ to get down cunamos, c-side, clika controlondos
where the motherf-ckin’ weed at
pisto, shaved heads, in a motherf-ckin’ parkin’ lot
down to scr-p a lot
bad boy, pull the gat, hit ’em up, with the .45 calibur shot
i’m gettin’ down with the gang bang, bang
teardrops and caskets, quick to pull a drive-by
street life ain’t no game
homicide, we ride, i’m hangin’ out low rides
ese brown from the c-l, i-k to the a, kickin’ back with a motherf-ckin’ primo
with them on the d-low
f-ck around with the scarface, hit ’em in the neck like casino
put them on a g-o
fill ’em all with bullet holes
let the motherf-ckers bleed, hit ’em up
with a bottle of the kerosene
spark the match, turned around and heard ’em screamin
never meant to f-ckin’ with a demon, no lie
twelve guage
to the brain from a drive-by, livin’ my life
in the fast line, cocaine
insane to the brain, with a fake name
what you claim
throw your motherf-ckin’ gang sign
hit ’em up from the side lines, never mind mine
never try mine, ese (be careful, puto)
i’ll blow your motherf-ckin’ brains, man

repeat chorus

[verse 3: romero]
i’m crawlin’ up out of the shadow, you ready to battle, gon’ make your head rattle
new mexico lobo, we doppin’ the vocals
for all of your cholas and all of you cholos
i’m rollin’ mine deep in mi carro
a ’72 monte carlo
we dip us a limon sin palo
tripped out in the mente muy malo
my clip’s loaded up with hollows
hey lobo, get down to the point
i take real big tocasos
so big, i swallow the joint {-sniff-}
i twist off the cap on my pito, a vato that’s listo, para des madre
a lobo that’s puttin’ in hales
i’m burnin’ a hole through your carne
wherever we are, never it fails
smokin’ the dough, we’re mackin’ the hoes
we’ll throw in the dawgs, and droppin’ the bombs
puttin’ it down, whenever we drop
sh-t doesn’t stop, forever we last
whenever we blast, we spraying em down
we layin’ em down, no playing around
my cuete goes pop, til everyone drops
you’re f-ckin’ with mexican mobsters
got grip just like a red lobster
the brown neighborhood night stalker
got ghost when i heard the chopper
i left no eyewitness, took care of business, in it to win it
won’t stop til i’m finished, start right from the beginnin’
until the ninth innin, i’m makin’ my feria, loco

- clika one lyrics

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