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M.e.m.p.h.i.s. (remix) Lyrics

from Underground, Vol. 3: Kings Of Memphis

"M.e.m.p.h.i.s. (remix)" is track #1 on the album Underground, Vol. 3: Kings Of Memphis. It was written by Paul Beauregard, Jordan Houston.
"M.e.m.p.h.i.s. (remix)" is track #1 on the album Underground, Vol. 3: Kings Of Memphis. It was written by Paul Beauregard, Jordan Houston.

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Finally, I got all real niggaz on on a muthafuckin' Posse song
Niggaz that's down to cut some muthafuckin' heads
From hear to ATL, to Nashville, back to the M-town nigga
And you know what that mean bitch
Makin' easy money, pimpin' hoes is serious bitch
Makin' easy money, pimpin' hoes is serious nigga

Call a nigga, drug dealer, out here on the track nigga
Weed smoker, coke snorter, come and get a pack nigga
Cane slangier, bitch banger, dog I'll bring it to ya
If you got a problem with me, holla at my Luger

Dro puffer, cheese come up, when we on the track jack
Hit you in the head, with the gat, 'til your skull crack
Blood gushin', head rushin', act first, no discussion
Come with that bullshit, then the bullets start bustin'

First crime, we came with Mystic Stylez on grime
You slip, I Live By My Rep don't fuck with mine
Da End, the souls of men embedded inside
The Posse, the Prophet, the Posse, we all collide

We brutal, the Chapter 2 to end the phase
Our mind, in crime reminds, Crazed N Laz Dayz
Hypnotize, and blazed another gold plate
Sixty 6, sixty 1, The Smoke Clears, evaporate

I got a 357, a tec with a black clip
A 180 pounds witha fist that will bust lips
Some killaz on my side, if I tell 'em they gon' get
A fiend violatin' the business, I ain't wit'

And now in 2000 you talkin' the same shit
And now in 2000 I'll bust and I won't miss
They smoke is in the air the liquor is still a fill
The grill is still gold, and the curls they know kick doors

The first one to bust his gun, hollow tips come by the ton
Two AK's, and put some drama to leave this niggaz bodies numb
I don't talk this shit for fun, cock it back and let it go
And 6 shots, from the 3-6 shooters lettin' 'em know, whoa

Picture me, naked face, to kickin' in your door
4 niggaz deep, bandannas with black calicos
So, when we creep, drop 'cause I'ma hit you nine times
Take your nine lives, bump up and hypnotize your mind, blind

You can believe this, you can believe that
And believe I got a baseball bat, and I'm bustin' your head black
You believe I'm comin' strong, you believe I'm all grown
You believe that nigga I love to get it on

You half steppin', I got the weapon
Boom, boom, I'm blastin' at your mind to get you believe that
I love to kill, I love the thrill
And I love to put a nigga body parts in the field, nigga

No no, come, come and get this bitch, ain't got no time for no shit
Got all my boys, don't make no noise, just throw that trick in the ditch
It ain't no way La Chat gon' let it slide, with the shit that you done
I got my piece for what I do, to show you who the fuck number one

I shot that bitch without causes, ain't got no love in my heart
It ain't no way that I can't handle, keep that tone in my jaw
This ain't no crap, I speak the truth, gotta come too thick to get me
On one of you hoes, before you come, La Chat ain't gone easy

Man a bitch'll take that lil bit out her pussy for them papers
Get the fuck away from me, ho because
The crew can't stand them vapors
Take her, break her, to whip that funky bitch
Talkin' that shit about this man you'll get 10 slugs up in your armpits

Yeah, we can do it take your time and do it right
You can gimme the fuckin' chewin', I can fuck you all night
Wanna fight about your friends see how them bitches gon' start
See now that's that type of shit that get my muh'fuckin' dick hard

Capital Mack-11's, and load 'em full of ammunition
Terrorist sect's, we pull and lock 'em in the expedition
No set a niggaz got guns equivalent to what we pack
Nuclear pistols and fire scorchin' automatic gats

How in the fuck can you handle the, butsa damager
Toss that bitch over the banaster, like trash canisters
Hollow points into your battle troops, when I have to shoot
Plus, I'll be storin' the cap for you, and trick be absolute

I woke up early Saturday morning
Suddenly your phone was ringin' off the charger
Thinkin' to myself, man, is it a bitch or cop, or is it them robbers
Got MC Mack of in a scheme, I'm stainin' for my dividends
And pay a livin', neh nigga, gon' bother my
Cheese gon' reach the ceiling fan

You can catch my in that president thing, on gizold when you see me
You can joke me, ever rope me, best believe your bleed this evenin'
Fuck the reason, and the treason, time to get dirty nigga better I'll pop it
You was gaspin' for your life, but all I heard was Killa Klan Kaze

Bitches think we playin', think this killa shit a joke
Don't fuck around with HCP and get you ass smoked, ho
Comin' with some fully auto's, fuck some semi's
Hit 'em with some hollow auto's, 'cause I despise

Blastin' like some rondo batays, for you miatays
Koop with double clicks and duck tape and wicked wizards
And I, perferin' keepin' busin' in my freak time
Taught 'em in that buried unknown, they wanna reap why

Give you second thoughts about that business, you then finished right
Take you to the vault, cash it in, all night flight
And I'm in a bad mood, cocaine make it that
Plus, I gotta ease on this nine-milly, willy, nigga I slang with that

Bitch, nigga, it's CP nigga
HCP, Hypnotize Camp Posse nigga
What, what, it's CP nigga
HCP, Hypnotize

Songwriters
PAUL BEAUREGARD, JORDAN HOUSTON

Published by
Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC

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