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I was rollin' through the hood one day 
Thought shit den calmed down, 
"Gang-bangin'" den played out by the years since I den been around 
Ain't talked to nobody from my block 
Cause all my niggas is locked up 
And it's been all ever I seen wit a guillotine 
So I was in the "Cut Supreme" 
Fifteen grams and some "greenodine" 
Ain't seen a block nigga since 
But now I'm off that kill green 
(Mothtafuckas ain't got no love for me) 
(Niggas wanna put some slugs in me) 
So I'm double 0 seven, murder redrum wit my three fifty seven 
Brotha Lynch Hung, but the bitches call me Kevin 
They try to make me think they close to me, but Neb'in [never] 
You know I gots to (say high) stay high, keep recipts for alibis 
And the meat they ate from them drive-bys ain't mine 
cause mine's a supe' desguise 
As I swoop the skies high off that buddha 
tah mixed the cusche and the purple hairs 
And it got me high 
(Now I'm rollin on the river) 
Labeled Mr. FedEx 
(Cause them bodies I deliver) 
Got to get to my next plot 
Unlock the freezer get the meat for the "rocks" [rotweilers] 
And heat the heat cause it's the "nine-neb'in" ['97] 
and it's hot den a mothafucka 
(All day everyday) I'mma stay loaded up, "krondike" in the trunk 
And a pound full of James Brown 
Cause I gots to get loaded so hold up soldier 
[Chorus: 2Xs] 
The count goes 
(One more pound of smoke and it's guaranteed to make a mothafucka 
choke) 
(Ain't got no down ass bitch at my side 
but I got some bomb ass weed in my ride) 
Nothin but notches, booches 
Fill my pockets, hit 'em up everyday, gotta have my pay 
The gaungay got me high now I'm paranoida den these booches 
Filthy rich, I'mma take the loot 
And the dig a ditch, tell your neighborhood bitch 
to miss me with that hoe shit 
Cause I'mma get this nigga when he surface 
And that's on everything I love, I gots to split his wig 
Opened up the little blue packet, stung him like a yellow-jacket 
Rib cage heavily padded, hit him with the automatic shells 
Send him to hell express from his mailing address 
We got his name, for sho', then we went to the house and did that shit 
I know I said I do it alone in the pass, everybody in the neighborhood 
knew 
somebody betta jack his ass up like a six-four impala 
You floatin' on dirty water 
Pack your shit up nigga like it's on only you and your ?woda-goda? 
Track your ass down, smoke your last pound 
[Chorus 2Xs] 
(If you smell any smoke it's just me and my homies gettin' blown) 
And I was late gettin' home, intoxicated 
Fight with my old lady 
she was comin at unreal, hit the blunt and now she's animated 
Motivate through you like a foggy mist 
You can hold me in your chest-plate like that nitro hit 
First Degree told me if the weed can toss 
It'll talk some shit, gotta get me an underspot 
make me a Hemp Museum like B-Legit 
I'm tryin to bump my head on the moon 
Live so high up in the mountains eatin' snake meat, fried raccoons 
With a attitude I need food to eat up 
smoke a fat blunt on my couch with my feet up 
Top notch program, DOS mode indo 95 upgrade siccmade 
Stay paid til the day on the ground, I'mma lay, I'mma stay loaded up 
In my trunk I got the blow you up and it'll blow you up 
And the count goes 
[Brotha Lynch Hung sends out shout outs til the end]

Видео-клип к песне One Mo Pound

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