Letra de Mo' Mail de Spice 1
Letras de Spice 1
Letra de Mo' Mail
(E-40)
Ah f*ck it
Ah y'all got your nigga E-40 in this motherf*cker
I buzz I put a step in
(G-Nut)
Kickin it in the Fac house motherf*cker
(E-40)
Ay, G-Nut, Spice, Xtra-Large
(G-Nut)
Let em have it
(Spice-1)
Went out the house I think it was a Sunday
Nigga was runnin with drop top drop havin a fun-day
Kickin it with my niggas up on the block
talkin shit drinkin "Crooked Eye"
I got the fat head rush from the chocolate Thai
I'm feelin good I wanna kick it and hang out
But when the drive-by hit this is the main route
What the f*ck is my problem nigga?
I got a glock seventeen better gobble them
So why should I trip, load the clip, put the joint to my lip
Get the motherf*ckin forty take a real ass nigga hit
I'm sittin on my gat thinkin shit is cool
Some niggaz roll up in an old school
I ain't trippin, ay æ ' you know this nigga's face
I heard the motherf*ckin bass
of a sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Musty dead bodies and a catty bump, trump
Smellin up the neighborhood lyin in the bushes
Somebody had mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
(E-40)
Yeah, I'm just a hustler
Yeah, I'm just a hustler
Yeah, I'm just a hustler
Spice-1, you know some hoes gonna go boy
Look here ay look here
They got schemes and scandals out there right?
When that funk is on this here
Check fan, the motherf*cker gotta be about
As greasy as gravy in order to maintain
So society is a motherf*cker ain't it?
Ay, whatta bout those niggas on your dick nigga?
Ice spit some shit about that shit nigga
(Spice-1)
Get off my dick nigga get your own motherf*ckers
steady mobbin gaffle the motherf*ckers cause my jobbing
Shootin up motherf*ckers was my hobby
Stop the tech-eleven on two-eleven I did a robbery
Shot the mothef*cker is grenades that I'll be livin
Lowin the motherf*ckers like a new pair of Levi's and
Used to think the cops were so motherf*ckin friendly
Till they tied my cousin to a chair and broke his chin æ '
My homies motherf*ckin head like a melon
Slavery is (?????) of convicted felon
So dear Mr. Officer of the motherf*ckin law
Rodney Kind don't need a trial what was seen was what was saw
You could take the niggas up out the motherf*ckin ghetto
But you can't take the ghetto up out the motherf*ckin niggas
Can't you hear the voice of the niggas comin at cha?
F*ck you Mr. President I think I wanna gat ya
I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the piles
(E-40)
I can't get enough, good, good
Good shit motherf*cker good shit
I think I'm a little jet drunk motherf*ck
Ay, look here ay I'm off this Liquorice Rainall boy
You understand that don't ya
Huh, you feel it
Ay, ay look here nigga, ay
What I want you to do boy, drop that ill shit
(Spice-1)
I'll make this gat sing like motherf*ckin Mary J. Blige
And reminisce on havin a nigga's last breath when he slowly die
Stang his ass in the chest with the hollow
Capped him in his thr-thr-throat so he can't swallow
R-a-rat t-a-tat put a buck in y'all
The motherf*ckin six-foot chucky dog
Comin to play with the trigger of the AK
Another real ass nigga from the East Bay
?W-E-L-L-T-E-P-R-O-O-F?
For the niggas who kid yourself by losin your f*ckin death
Bloaw! Bloaw!
Cap, we do it just like that
Quick to put a motherf*cker brains in his lap
Smokin up a blunt as I reminisce
of bloody body bags a motherf*cker going nutty
Bloaw! Bloaw!
Po' bust a knowledge route
Brown, notify his family, f*ck it, send his fingers home
Cause the shit get major, put the ?Montgomery? number upon his pager
Bitch don't f*ck with me
I know a gang of niggas that will shoot it up with me
I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
(E-40)
It's the S-P-I-C-E with ya nigga E-40 (Erick Sermon)
Roll in to the curb and die
These motherf*ckers don't understand this shit boy
This shit is so damn real man
Ay, nineteen ninety-tre-four-five
Ay, I got one of them
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Ah f*ck it
Ah y'all got your nigga E-40 in this motherf*cker
I buzz I put a step in
(G-Nut)
Kickin it in the Fac house motherf*cker
(E-40)
Ay, G-Nut, Spice, Xtra-Large
(G-Nut)
Let em have it
(Spice-1)
Went out the house I think it was a Sunday
Nigga was runnin with drop top drop havin a fun-day
Kickin it with my niggas up on the block
talkin shit drinkin "Crooked Eye"
I got the fat head rush from the chocolate Thai
I'm feelin good I wanna kick it and hang out
But when the drive-by hit this is the main route
What the f*ck is my problem nigga?
I got a glock seventeen better gobble them
So why should I trip, load the clip, put the joint to my lip
Get the motherf*ckin forty take a real ass nigga hit
I'm sittin on my gat thinkin shit is cool
Some niggaz roll up in an old school
I ain't trippin, ay æ ' you know this nigga's face
I heard the motherf*ckin bass
of a sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Musty dead bodies and a catty bump, trump
Smellin up the neighborhood lyin in the bushes
Somebody had mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
(E-40)
Yeah, I'm just a hustler
Yeah, I'm just a hustler
Yeah, I'm just a hustler
Spice-1, you know some hoes gonna go boy
Look here ay look here
They got schemes and scandals out there right?
When that funk is on this here
Check fan, the motherf*cker gotta be about
As greasy as gravy in order to maintain
So society is a motherf*cker ain't it?
Ay, whatta bout those niggas on your dick nigga?
Ice spit some shit about that shit nigga
(Spice-1)
Get off my dick nigga get your own motherf*ckers
steady mobbin gaffle the motherf*ckers cause my jobbing
Shootin up motherf*ckers was my hobby
Stop the tech-eleven on two-eleven I did a robbery
Shot the mothef*cker is grenades that I'll be livin
Lowin the motherf*ckers like a new pair of Levi's and
Used to think the cops were so motherf*ckin friendly
Till they tied my cousin to a chair and broke his chin æ '
My homies motherf*ckin head like a melon
Slavery is (?????) of convicted felon
So dear Mr. Officer of the motherf*ckin law
Rodney Kind don't need a trial what was seen was what was saw
You could take the niggas up out the motherf*ckin ghetto
But you can't take the ghetto up out the motherf*ckin niggas
Can't you hear the voice of the niggas comin at cha?
F*ck you Mr. President I think I wanna gat ya
I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the piles
(E-40)
I can't get enough, good, good
Good shit motherf*cker good shit
I think I'm a little jet drunk motherf*ck
Ay, look here ay I'm off this Liquorice Rainall boy
You understand that don't ya
Huh, you feel it
Ay, ay look here nigga, ay
What I want you to do boy, drop that ill shit
(Spice-1)
I'll make this gat sing like motherf*ckin Mary J. Blige
And reminisce on havin a nigga's last breath when he slowly die
Stang his ass in the chest with the hollow
Capped him in his thr-thr-throat so he can't swallow
R-a-rat t-a-tat put a buck in y'all
The motherf*ckin six-foot chucky dog
Comin to play with the trigger of the AK
Another real ass nigga from the East Bay
?W-E-L-L-T-E-P-R-O-O-F?
For the niggas who kid yourself by losin your f*ckin death
Bloaw! Bloaw!
Cap, we do it just like that
Quick to put a motherf*cker brains in his lap
Smokin up a blunt as I reminisce
of bloody body bags a motherf*cker going nutty
Bloaw! Bloaw!
Po' bust a knowledge route
Brown, notify his family, f*ck it, send his fingers home
Cause the shit get major, put the ?Montgomery? number upon his pager
Bitch don't f*ck with me
I know a gang of niggas that will shoot it up with me
I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
(E-40)
It's the S-P-I-C-E with ya nigga E-40 (Erick Sermon)
Roll in to the curb and die
These motherf*ckers don't understand this shit boy
This shit is so damn real man
Ay, nineteen ninety-tre-four-five
Ay, I got one of them
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers
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