Oh My Lord Lyrics - Singles - Junior M.a.f.i.a

Why niggaz want to clock me? 

Like that dance called the chachi 

Don't they know I break motherfuckers into parts like Rocky 

Part I part II part III niggaz can't fuck with me 

My style's knock kneed plum crazy (what?) 

Who's that wild ass motherfucker catchin wreck 

Stickin Jamaicans for sound sets outside discoteques 

It's Klep the death specialist Stallone and Stone shit 

Stayin high representin for the nine-quint 

Ras bad guy, burns the house down like Left Eye 

Why try mimic? MC's get broke like speed limits (uhh) 

Niggaz can't fuck with my metaphors 

Canin MC's like they in Singapore; Klep been through more wards 

Than Humphrey Shore, put together catchin leathers 

On the regular, got that net, push me round and Dread stressin a 

Trick hoe, what the Dread won't know won't hurt 

Robbin his workers for they work; now, WHOSE TURF IS THIS? 

It's Klep's, the clothes wreckers' 

Life interceptor, pussy collector 

Got your bitch on my dick and I ain't even stressin her 

Check enough sex in her, my styles are regular 

Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique moves in like the senator 

Niggas say "Oh my lord!" 

Throw gats to Guiliani 

Flows tighter than bitches punani, try me, die G 

Dangerous, since my daddy bust me out 

The tip of his dick, Biggie Smalls with the wickedest shit 

Spit clips, niggaz split like bananas 

Flavour like Tropicana; orange, mango, peach 

I strangle each,negro for they dough 

Niggaz get to bendin, got two cases, one pendin 

560 V-12 engine, women spinnin 

In 9-2-9 Mazda's, Tammy and Natasha 

The menage-a-trois around my waist 

Like Ill and Al Skratch smokin 50 sacks in the back of Ac's 

Windows cracked, so sit back relax 

Yo Vec, crush the hash, the Beretta's in the stash 

Niggas say "Oh my lord!" 

Niggas say "Oh my lord!" 

Niggas say "Oh my lord!" 

Niggas say "Oh my lord!" 

What you doin with yourself? Stone heart's the way to wealth 

Indecisive thoughts make sentences get dealt 

Money makes the world go round, robbin shit 

Fuck a job shit, niggaz want cribs, bricks and spliffs 

All-wheel automobiles, traction control 

For clay roads, rollin with dough, kickin game 

On the cel with bitches on hold, that's how we roll (uhh) 

Rhymes got tight as hell so to the bank I stroll (uhh) 

Money on my mind, open lips from my eyes 

Reveal pupils shaped like dollar signs 

The world is mine! 

Niggaz frontin, feelin twelve gauge pellets 

BIG is repellant, to all that "He say, she say" 

We play, Russian roulette, fuck the threat 

Your whole crew's vagina, you and your co-signer 

Nigga, we rollin in eight and a halfs, TV's in the dash 

Three G's in the stash, see we love the cash 

No coke, then get some more 

Niggas say "Oh my lord!" 

Niggas say "Oh my lord!" 

Niggas say "Oh my lord!" 

Niggas say "Oh my lord!" 

Niggaz don't know bout my game, they don't know 

How complex it is, baggin bitches in GS 300 Lexuses 

And the sex is for summer sports 

Passports for drug transports to remote resorts 

Bitches with Donna Karan "Catwoman" suits, matchin figure boots 

Haircut cute, on tops and garters like prostitutes 

My lyrics explicit 

Got bitches bringin they own condoms on the first visit 

If Biggie bring big bowls of beef 

Backin bitch niggaz down, burners bring bundles of belief 

Common thief, slash drug chief, syndicated 

Went from 10 K, to 24 K and motherfuckers hate it 

J.M. sedated, quarantined (uhh) 

BIG for President, buckin shots past the spleen 

9 millimeter dream, Mac 11 nightmares 

Electric chairs, which MC's do you fear? 

Big Poppa, Junior M.A.F.I.A., nuff said 

Niggaz disrespect just are dead...