MO3


Mob Lyrics (feat. Foogiano)

[Intro: MO3]
Mob, mob, ho
Gang (Mob, nigga)
(Yxng Stov)
Ayy, we cutthroat around here, nigga (Real cutthroat, nigga)
You might wanna move around (Better move)
Look

[Verse 1: MO3]
O-Okay, this that drop (Huh?)
Not that re-rock, he want clout (Nah)
Make him famous with this Glock (Huh?)
Put his picture at the top (Boom)
Yelling, "f*ck 'em, I got guap" (Ho)
Big old knots (Racks), run or get dropped
She wanna f*ck (Huh?), we in the spot
Big old racks, I count 'em out

[Chorus: MO3 & Foogiano]
Like one (One)
Two (Two, nigga)
Three (Three)
Four (Huh? Four)
Five sticks, here they go (Grah, grah, grah)
And I put six in the head, seven days a week, I get that dough (Huh? Huh? Ho)
I poured an eight down in my Fanta, I was tired of pouring fours (Eight, mud, mud)

[Verse 2: Foogiano & MO3]
He said he gangster, but I looked him in his eyes, seen he ain't 'bout it (Huh? What? Ho)
MO3 throw that oop, I dunk his ass just like I'm Dwight Howard (Grah)
And I might be new to this rap game, but I ain't new to these streets (Huh? No, no)
Let a nigga try me, put him six feet, yeah, he going deep (What? Six feet, deep)
And I'm authentic as they come, .223's comin' out this drum (What? Boom, boom, boom)
MO3 calls me, tells me that he need you gone, I get it done (Huh? Woah)
Yeah, I come up out them trenches, bitch, I'm really from the slums (What? Mob, mob)
And boy, I put it on my son, we ain't doin' one-on-ones (Nah, mob, mob)
Niggas say I ain't gon' slide, boy, on my mama, I'ma slide (Huh? Slide, slide)
I'ma have your mama, baby, grandma, sister, brother cryin' (Damn, huh? They cryin')
I drank that Henny, turned me up, boy, that shit turned me to a dog (Huh? Dog, dog)
And, boy, I filled this Backwood up with zaza, it's fat like a log (Huh? Foo)

[Chorus: MO3 & Foogiano]
One (One)
Two (Two, nigga)
Three (Three)
Four (Huh? Four)
Five sticks, here they go (Grah, grah, grah)
And I put six in the head, seven days a week, I get that dough (Huh? Huh? Ho)
I poured an eight down in my Fanta, I was tired of pouring fours (Eight, mud, mud, MO-motherf*ckin'-3)

[Verse 3: MO3]
Big old chopper strap off in my joggers (What?), who protectin' 3?
My bodyguard (Yeah), oh, you don't see this bitch? This F&N on me (Baow)
Lil' bro got bodies (What?), he don't show his face, young nigga barely speak (Yeah)
Foogiano (What?) pull up semi-auto (Yeah), that's on M-O-B (Gang)
.223 (gang), will chop down a tree (Tree), Lil P push his top back (Top back)
Big bankroll (Roll), AP match my teeth (Teeth), VV's, yeah, I copped that (Bling)
Fly ho (Ho), big old booty freak (Freak), f*ck her, she come right back
Got good throat, damn near took my soul (Yeah), Foo, she need to stop that (Gang)

[Chorus: MO3 & Foogiano]
One (One)
Two (Two, nigga)
Three (Three)
Four (Huh? Four)
Five sticks, here they go (Grah, grah, grah)
And I put six in the head, seven days a week, I get that dough (Huh? Huh? Ho)
I poured an eight down in my Fanta, I was tired of pouring fours

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these lyrics are submitted by HNHH3
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Songwriter(s): MO3, Foogiano
Record Label(s): 2021 H$M Music EMPIRE
Official lyrics by

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