Cory Gunz – YMCMB MMG Lyrics

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[Verse 1: Cory Gunz]
Stare's blank when the trigger face
Lil' nigga with a bigger base
Know me young homie here's some money, you wonder now
I'll make 2012 with a number dial
Talking that shit
Don't know who they rappin' with

Pause, I say fuck I'm fast, rabbit dicks
I turn the booth to a maggot pit
She appear when I wave it's the David magic wrist
Getting money, you bitches can't see me like my mother home
She's bitching her dog is back with another bone
Hollar for a dollar to swallow back
I hit her right off of twitter, follow that
I'm booking face, my network is social

Young Money, Cash Money, we coach who coach you
Slow up them Protools with them loco vocals
What you know to, don't do, nigga
I'm your go-tos, go-to
Plot, once you try I approach you quiet with the toast too
Fire, I will smoke you
Tie, any man bear hand choke you
Silence is what I go to
Violent burner in the safe, burner in the car
And the plates burner on the waist

Find the burner and they solving the case
Murder in the place, let is dislove in his waist
I don't give a fuck if your moms and all is in the play
Get your pops, get popped, nigga pop off
Get a drop, in the city chopped, get in knocked off
Glock and it getting hot, knock ya socks off
Get clocked, when it tick, get tocked off
Block niggas by the block when its blocked off
Swat looking for the yacht when is docked off
In the spot where niggas plot to get bopped, pause
And when the waps stop then ya top off


[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
YMCMB Double M G, you know me
Old school flow like Kool Moe Dee
Coastal flow, I move low key
Make a move OT
Get a brick for the low

95 South get a chick that would go
Every three-six let the bitch get an O
I put it in the hood that bitch better snow
In the middle of summer, do numbers
Niggas better run from us that, in front us
That Mac-10 with a drummer, they want us
Tell them niggas run up, get done up
When that automatic get clapping like Cory Gunz when he rapping
That shit be spitting so fast and my niggas we platinum

And I'm
On the way I'm going glow, I put my pressy on
Thirty thou like I got a Camero Chevy on

I go loud around the neck give em a heavy one
And niggas sleeping on me, guess I get my Freddy on
Nightmare on you record label

I tell em put the dirty money on the other table
You ever seen a hundred racks off fiend money
That Martin Luther King, I had a dream money
I can tell you niggas never seen money
We selling white girl, getting Christine money
Aguilera, I'm in the Panamera

Niggas whisper when I come through, I can barely hear em
I know these suckas looking, I can't see em though
My daddy in the grave, I make you meet em though
They call me, mister fuck a nigga, I don't need a ho
Cause I got my paper up, it's time to get my haters up
I'm gone
Bitch
I'm gone
Double-M G YMCMB

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