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| C-bo Major Pain & Mr. Bossalini text
(words of the song) |  | print |  | email |  | translate | | Artist:
C-bo Lyrics | | Song Title: Major Pain & Mr. Bossalini Lyrics | | Album: Other Lyrics | |
{Featuring Spice 1}
Verse 1 {C BO}
We got the warehouse packed from Lamborginis to Lacs
more ruby an flame pack than metro rap
got keys on knees wit g's out of state
flippin more yay than IHOP flip pancakes
I'm a boss balla now shot calla now
rose's Bentley's nigga **** the Apollos now
elcc?.i ,nigcce
an these bitches be comin by the dozens
true ballaz never love 'em ****in aunties an cousins
got a have a humble, sticky green gumbo
layin by the pool, hella full off gumbo,
rollin wit these g's, get R.I.P.
by dozen to mini gages, to AR-15's,
see I don't trust a soul on patrole when I roll
4-4 I hold cuz I gotta shake parole,
you can stroll wit me, rock an roll wit me
but when the one times dip, caulk, unload wit me,
cuz I'm a killa, nappy head nigga, from out the valley, best strapped
down, in Sac-Town, capitol of Killa Kali,
fool I comes heated, when needed, niggaz retreat,
when I blast pair of an a mini 14 when I smash.
{Chorus}
None of y'all niggaz can't fade this,
west coast niggaz is the craziest,
we got that MOB mentality,
C-BO an S-P-I-C-E,
None of y'all niggaz can't fade this,
west coast niggaz is the craziest,
we got that MOB mentality,
Major Pain & Mr. Bossalini.
Verse 2-{Spice 1}
{Straight G's}
Pullin our straps on niggaz who thinkin they bodies is made outta
teflan,
wit a 5-0 caliber in my right hand, an a G-LOCK in my left palm,
Black Bossalini, can't see me, wit a Lexy up on my wrist,
imagine this, a ballin ass nigga addicted to killin shit,
cross soldier mutha ****az so nigga don't **** wit me,
I seen niggaz that I done murdered up in my dreams, when I be asleep,
strapped an I thank God, nigga chasin me callin me punk ass nigga,
wakin up wit the finga on trigga
spittin hollow tip slugs that goes to figga,
wanna put down, my Cristal, drink Cristal an shit,
but niggaz Uzi think he tellin me I'm gonna die if I sit,
so I MOB wit the old skool, wit a shot of chromes out my window,
could it be the S-P-I-C-E wit a fifth of hin, yay an indo,
Black Bossalini.
{Chorus}
Verse 3-{C-BO}
We puts it down like g's, swingin vipers an vests,
from Benz to Beamers an Lamborginis all on the set,
an keep it crackin from LA all the way back down to the Bay,
I'm from the, valley, northern of Killa Kali, where g's lay,
gots to keep yo head up, you slip they drop, they leave you wet up,
blasted magnum taggin the fool of the big block we hit him up,
eyes do or die, let 'em drip til they dry
two killaz eye to eye, never duck when bullets fly,
keep it crackulatin, like Pearl Harbor when we spit,
g's bump this shit, from moves to the rip set,
trippin get split,
wit a magnum,
steady blastin now I done seen murder eye to eye
but my kids hope that I'm steadily fastenin,
ain't no love for you thats down at the end of my barrel,
when I multiply my cash, ridin in my 4 barrel Camaro,
I catch ya slippin, I'm slappin my clip in, I'm puttin it down,
you been hit from slippin an caulkin yo grip in my town.
{Chorus until end}
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