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Artist: M.M.O.
Album:  All About the Money
Song:   I-95
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Itchy Fingas Sha]
I'm on the I-95, my eyes red, swerving
In the Suburban, wit this chick from Mount Vernon
Dime piece wit an ass ya peeps trynna peep
But she ride wit me, so she strapped wit ki's
Tucked in her weave, shout didn't take holes about the city
And take M.M.O. being in luxury, you work for me
Like Charlie's Angels, my hoes will bang you
And snap bracelets, yo, get that diamond ring too
On some fishing in the field, when she cocking the steel
Popping the steel, niggas better popping the pill
And lay low, you get dough, I'm like, ey-yo, where the yae yo
And took a slow nigga, let's play in the snow
Blaze the dro like we ain't got nowhere to go
We capable to do anything, we capable to blow

[Trigg-nomm]
Two heaters, in the two seaters, sweating neeta beaters
P.O.T., low key, wit po' Kita
Poting this deep, stinky sticky broccoli
On some cops, please, police can't stop these
Public Enemies, Flav and Chuck D.
Millennium S1 Dub, chameleons
Kidnap civilians, wives and children
My dogs get hungry, appetites get ugly
Straight yae and bake Pacino wit
In the Casino, playing for Keno
Straight New Jack niggas, we Nino
And G-Money, see money? Ain't shit funny
So don't laugh, cuz it's not a game
Spit the calico, fast glock, glide ya brain
Whole M.M.O. squad insane
Repertoire be mobsta, off the chain
Ladies be straight dimes, packing baby nines
Bout it babies, intertwine wit crime
Hold in they vagin', thong in they behind
First class, on American Airline

[Itchy Fingas Sha]
10 O'clock in the morning, my phone ringing
Yo, I'm at the Four Seasons
For some reasons, I just cock the heaters
Waiting for this package, that we shipped out of Medina
Last week, while this bitch stay in Taj unique
She had a body that was fine and neat
And all that coke that she bringing, where you hiding it?
Yo, shorty was tight, but if the drug ain't here tonight
I'mma make a phone call, have my niggas blow the top off your house
Pop ya spouse, don't forget the dough on the couch
Last year he made a biz, slaying crack in the house

[Trigg-nomm]
Either shorty disappeared, or shorty was gone
Either dough be slow, or the dough be long
Got the same gun, in head hunters, spot runners
Stuntmen, top gunners, money lovers
No loses, four horsemen, killing horses
Ya'll flossing, on some, rip me off
See I got the tip off, get a hit to tee off
Retaliate, snakes beat, evaluate
It was the crack of dawn, when I heard the horn
Got a call from Now Born, and codes I caught on
Yo shorty's gone, and I got the bread
Straight M.M.O. steelo, left him for dead, biatch