Smoke one to this, nigga
Tired of you cap ass niggas
Y'all some imposters
How you gon' steal my sauce,
Won't share the pasta
Nah, I ain't no trap nigga,
Franky Black is a mobster
Smack the shit out you for talking out of your tonsils,
They say that Black be trippin',
He be flippin' out
Them niggas right,
Open up your Navi
Take a different route or lose your life
Cause right or wrong,
I'm standing ten toes down
Nigga, I'm the man,
Your bitch is your only fan
And I just sub'd to her Only Fans
Juicy lied,
Cause I ain't need a band to make that hooker dance
Fifteen bucks for a private show,
Money talk it's how it go
Time is money, I gotta go
These niggas think I'm Fulio,
Just playin' Coolio
Hit em high, center mass,
Turn they chest to cookie dough
These niggas sweet,
Me it's no surrender,
No retreat
Bam Adebayo on your head,
You don't want this Heat
Just cause I ain't in em,
Now these niggas saying I ain't street
Eagles don't fly with roosters,
Boss nigga, I am He
Franklin Noir for you dick riding geeks,
Killing y'all
Y'all niggas been some pussies,
Big Black been a dog
I guess the studio,
My trap,
And I'm givin' ya'll this work
Smoking on that designer, nigga,
And y'all smoking on that dirt
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
Black, they can't share the pasta
When they go behind your back and
Steal the sauce from they motherf*cking father
Shit, man, that's the problem
But they still missing ingredients
Like where's shrimp and the lobster
Call me Mufasa,
I'm Big Papa
Time for discipline,
Move your hands so I can pop ya
Think you man enough to stand up then I'll box ya
Hit you with the quick left,
Then the right'll shock ya
The way that you move,
You thought you was slick and smooth
Like a criminal, but not a criminal
You left in critical from subliminals
Wanna make the news, 11-5-2
Had you in the trunk in the middle of rush hour
Clear blue skies with a light chance of showers
Making you a great fertilizer for the flowers
I follow Art of War and the 48 Laws of Power, nigga
EYE AM MOB (feat. Super Cru) Video (MV)
Franky Black - EYE AM MOB (feat. Super Cru) Lyrics
Official
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Smoke one to this, nigga
Tired of you cap ass niggas
Y'all some imposters
How you gon' steal my sauce,
Won't share the pasta
Nah, I ain't no trap nigga,
Franky Black is a mobster
Smack the shit out you for talking out of your tonsils,
They say that Black be trippin',
He be flippin' out
Them niggas right,
Open up your Navi
Take a different route or lose your life
Cause right or wrong,
I'm standing ten toes down
Nigga, I'm the man,
Your bitch is your only fan
And I just sub'd to her Only Fans
Juicy lied,
Cause I ain't need a band to make that hooker dance
Fifteen bucks for a private show,
Money talk it's how it go
Time is money, I gotta go
These niggas think I'm Fulio,
Just playin' Coolio
Hit em high, center mass,
Turn they chest to cookie dough
These niggas sweet,
Me it's no surrender,
No retreat
Bam Adebayo on your head,
You don't want this Heat
Just cause I ain't in em,
Now these niggas saying I ain't street
Eagles don't fly with roosters,
Boss nigga, I am He
Franklin Noir for you dick riding geeks,
Killing y'all
Y'all niggas been some pussies,
Big Black been a dog
I guess the studio,
My trap,
And I'm givin' ya'll this work
Smoking on that designer, nigga,
And y'all smoking on that dirt
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
Black, they can't share the pasta
When they go behind your back and
Steal the sauce from they motherf*cking father
Shit, man, that's the problem
But they still missing ingredients
Like where's shrimp and the lobster
Call me Mufasa,
I'm Big Papa
Time for discipline,
Move your hands so I can pop ya
Think you man enough to stand up then I'll box ya
Hit you with the quick left,
Then the right'll shock ya
The way that you move,
You thought you was slick and smooth
Like a criminal, but not a criminal
You left in critical from subliminals
Wanna make the news, 11-5-2
Had you in the trunk in the middle of rush hour
Clear blue skies with a light chance of showers
Making you a great fertilizer for the flowers
I follow Art of War and the 48 Laws of Power, nigga
Tired of you cap ass niggas
Y'all some imposters
How you gon' steal my sauce,
Won't share the pasta
Nah, I ain't no trap nigga,
Franky Black is a mobster
Smack the shit out you for talking out of your tonsils,
They say that Black be trippin',
He be flippin' out
Them niggas right,
Open up your Navi
Take a different route or lose your life
Cause right or wrong,
I'm standing ten toes down
Nigga, I'm the man,
Your bitch is your only fan
And I just sub'd to her Only Fans
Juicy lied,
Cause I ain't need a band to make that hooker dance
Fifteen bucks for a private show,
Money talk it's how it go
Time is money, I gotta go
These niggas think I'm Fulio,
Just playin' Coolio
Hit em high, center mass,
Turn they chest to cookie dough
These niggas sweet,
Me it's no surrender,
No retreat
Bam Adebayo on your head,
You don't want this Heat
Just cause I ain't in em,
Now these niggas saying I ain't street
Eagles don't fly with roosters,
Boss nigga, I am He
Franklin Noir for you dick riding geeks,
Killing y'all
Y'all niggas been some pussies,
Big Black been a dog
I guess the studio,
My trap,
And I'm givin' ya'll this work
Smoking on that designer, nigga,
And y'all smoking on that dirt
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
I ain't never sold no brick,
Smacked a nigga though
Black, they can't share the pasta
When they go behind your back and
Steal the sauce from they motherf*cking father
Shit, man, that's the problem
But they still missing ingredients
Like where's shrimp and the lobster
Call me Mufasa,
I'm Big Papa
Time for discipline,
Move your hands so I can pop ya
Think you man enough to stand up then I'll box ya
Hit you with the quick left,
Then the right'll shock ya
The way that you move,
You thought you was slick and smooth
Like a criminal, but not a criminal
You left in critical from subliminals
Wanna make the news, 11-5-2
Had you in the trunk in the middle of rush hour
Clear blue skies with a light chance of showers
Making you a great fertilizer for the flowers
I follow Art of War and the 48 Laws of Power, nigga
Writer: Jose Eiland, Martellas Penny
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid