Z-Ro Lyrics

Album: Unknown

Mo City Don Lyrics

(*talking*)

 Shit, Z-Ro the Crooked, I know y'all

 Been waiting on this here, yeah shit

 R.I.P. Big Mello, Screw, Mafio, Big Boo, Gator

 All the fallen soldiers man, Southside

 Eastside, Westside, Northside, know I'm saying

 All my partnas, all your dead partnas

 But shit, I still feel stress, still gotta get something

 Off my chest, while these hoe niggas be doing what

 They be doing, I don't know though, shit fuck it

 We gon stay two deep in a fo' do'

 

 [Z-Ro]

 Slow Loud And Bangin', all in my trunk

 Trunk full of funk, I ain't never been a punk

 I blow on skunk, I blow on doja

 Military minded, I'm a motherfucking soldier

 Out the streets, of the Ridgemont 4

 Not no bitch, and say I still ain't a hoe

 Letting niggas know, everyday of the year

 I pimp my pen, and I get my point clear

 Why niggas wanna talk down, I don't know

 Gotta take a trip to Akapoko, from the 4

 With my 4-4 on my side, when I ride

 Ready to do another homicide, in a pine box

 And I'm gone, nigga old glory

 I'm H-Town to Cali, just like Robert Ory

 If I do a murder, flee the murder scene

 No missing shortage on the drank, I can't find no lean

 From Southwest to Southfese, bitch it's about war not bout peace

 Nigga like me, I'm bout knocking out teeth

 Know I'm saying, I'll loose your grill

 A nigga coming down, in the Coupe Deville

 Looking gravy, looking real throwed

 I'ma be the nigga, pulling over at the fucking cross road

 With my K on my side, I'm ready to ride

 And if I gotta go, it'll be a homicide

 Me and another nigga, on the way to the Golden Gate

 A nigga like me, can't wait

 Just to make it, to another day

 Gotta get the big pay off, so get the fuck out my way

 When I come around your corner, so slow

 It'll be the nigga, in the damn Polo

 It's the rap lawing, jackers ain't barring

 Why I skipped the slab, when I went straight to foreign

 Said it like I said it, in the old school

 Some niggas they be red, but Z-Ro blue

 I come around your corner, but I ain't set tripping

 But I will, wet niggas and wet women

 With the calico, I had to let a motherfucker know

 That I come around your corner, in a Lincoln four do'

 A fox photo, cause I do it in a flash

 Nigga watch out, cause that could be your ass

 I rhyme so long, rhyme so strong

 I flicks my bar, sip then I swoll on

 Get on, the motherfucking bench

 And when the laws hit the corner, I hit the fence

 They wonder where I went, they keep looking

 I don't give a fuck, like Tyson I keep hooking

 Or maybe like Lenox, I'm strong to the finish

 I'm like the ghetto Popeye, but I don't need spinach

 I'ma keep going, I keep on flowing just like the Nile

 Million dolla mouthpiece, everytime I smile

 Look and load a, nigga ashtray

 Everytime he smile, he can turn the night to day

 You can open up the pop, and let the smoke come out

 We don't give a damn, bout a crooked ass cop

 Crooked officer, crooked officer

 Make a nigga wanna blow the badge, off of ya

 Me and Dougie, my motherfucking brother

 R.I.P., to my motherfucking mother

 That's the Dorothy Marie McVay Matthew

 There's ten toes planted, in my motherfucking shoe

 I gotta be a man, hope you understand

 There's nothing but the work, and the calico in my hand

 On a corner on the Ridgevan, and I'm serving a fiend

 A real live B-Boy, and you know what I mean

 I be stacking up chips, like Lego

 Dark on a pump, just like Calvin Kato

 Loosen to the rocket, a four-peat like Comets

 I don't give a fuck, good punch a bitch nigga make him vomit

 On the grind, I'ma take a trip on Greyhound

 I be flying on a plane, but the dope is on the ground

 Headed to Lake Charles, or headed to Lafayette

 Maybe off in Alexandria, but I ain't finished yet

 I gotta make a hoe I-10, I sin

 Then I, do it again

 I get my ends, I'm in my motherfucking Benz-e

 Got these hoes running round, in a friendse

 I be busting full clips, till they empty

 A piece of potent pussy, might tempt me

 Rain is trying to send me, to the Penitentiary

 The main reason why, I ain't friendly

 I'm wired up, but I ain't on no damn slaughter

 Dejaun in the back, and he got the camcorder

 Recording everything, the 4's gon swang

 Still pulling up, on Fondren and the Main

 Looking lovely, got to look good

 I throw up Ridgemont 4, cause that's my hood

 Never been a hoe, I'm letting hoes know

 I gotta get a fucking P-L-A-T, but first a G-O

 L-D, a motherfucking plack

 I keep it straight and simple like that, hit a bitch from the back

 And I use my, motherfucking tool

 Make her say ouch, when I hit her with the mule