Mo City Don Freestyle Lyrics - Z-ro

(*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 niggaz be doing what 

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

We gon stay two deep in a fo' do' 

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(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 niggaz know, everyday of the year 

I pimp my pen, and I get my point clear 

Why niggaz 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 Horry 

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 

That's the Ralph Lauren, 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 niggaz they be red, but Z-Ro blue 

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

But I will, wet niggaz 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 

Houston 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 

Photos