Uhh, uhh...
Uhh, uhh...
M.O.P. in the house, kid.
BLAU! You know what I'm sayin? Check this out.
Lil Fame's a trigga n****.
Billy Danze a trigga n****.
Aight? Keepin' it real.
Brownsville, still n****.
Lil Fame, a young a** n**** wit' talent;
Thug that move silent, but still remain violent.
The Brownsville slugger take the M-1 it's truth.
General of this hit game, clak, clak, salute.
Billy Danze, index finger exerciser,
Bell ringer, gun slinger, survivor.
Raise your right and I'll blaze the living proof;
The godfather to truth, clak, clak, salute.
Since we came here we got to show and prove
The M.O.P. is rugged, never smooth.
We tearin' this s*** down, just like construction.
Flip like kilos, with this Primo production.
No doubt, hit 'em wit' that hilltop flavor.
Hardcore n***** on your doorstep neighbor.
And this year, here, n***** can't compare.
Spectators, haters, 'cause we're f***** with Premier.
Fillin' 'em up wit' raps, in fact they can't get wit'
A code red; the dope s***, got you n***** addicted.
Mr. Danzenie and the Fame stayin' true to this game.
Since you nice was that hip hop gangsta.
M.O.P. guaranteed to keep bringin' this dopeness
For the real thugs and ghetto n***** slingin' toasters.
On all coastses, north to south, east to west;
Got high clientele for s*** you least expect.
M.O.P. from the hill kid, what you tryin' to tell me?
Still grippin mo' steel, a machine gun deli.
I mention, and flinching, and waitin' for you to duck the gate,
And sellin' s*** that I won't tolerate.
WSUP?! My whole team's in the house.
The gat is 1-5-4-5, not four 5's in your f****** mouth.
Same ones, burner on blaze.
f*** a memory, y'all remember me for bustin' my thang...
Uhh, uhh...
M.O.P. in the house, kid.
BLAU! You know what I'm sayin? Check this out.
Lil Fame's a trigga n****.
Billy Danze a trigga n****.
Aight? Keepin' it real.
Brownsville, still n****.
Lil Fame, a young a** n**** wit' talent;
Thug that move silent, but still remain violent.
The Brownsville slugger take the M-1 it's truth.
General of this hit game, clak, clak, salute.
Billy Danze, index finger exerciser,
Bell ringer, gun slinger, survivor.
Raise your right and I'll blaze the living proof;
The godfather to truth, clak, clak, salute.
Since we came here we got to show and prove
The M.O.P. is rugged, never smooth.
We tearin' this s*** down, just like construction.
Flip like kilos, with this Primo production.
No doubt, hit 'em wit' that hilltop flavor.
Hardcore n***** on your doorstep neighbor.
And this year, here, n***** can't compare.
Spectators, haters, 'cause we're f***** with Premier.
Fillin' 'em up wit' raps, in fact they can't get wit'
A code red; the dope s***, got you n***** addicted.
Mr. Danzenie and the Fame stayin' true to this game.
Since you nice was that hip hop gangsta.
M.O.P. guaranteed to keep bringin' this dopeness
For the real thugs and ghetto n***** slingin' toasters.
On all coastses, north to south, east to west;
Got high clientele for s*** you least expect.
M.O.P. from the hill kid, what you tryin' to tell me?
Still grippin mo' steel, a machine gun deli.
I mention, and flinching, and waitin' for you to duck the gate,
And sellin' s*** that I won't tolerate.
WSUP?! My whole team's in the house.
The gat is 1-5-4-5, not four 5's in your f****** mouth.
Same ones, burner on blaze.
f*** a memory, y'all remember me for bustin' my thang...