40th Boys Lyrics

Its scram jones nigga
yea, a-mafia nigga
40th boys
its dipset
purple city, duke the god
ayo yall know how the fuck we do this shit

(chorus x2)
ayo
now all my real niggas pop it off
shoot em until his top come off
i'm gettin money so, i gotta floss
cause im the boss
when i come out, the thugs come out
stomp him out, till the blood come out
he frontin, let a slug come out
i'll show you what a thug about

(a-mafia)
yo
i see his face tightnin
but i aint with the face fightin
try to imitate tyson
he gonna taste lightin(that fire nigga)
i see some gangstas on my right and the left of me
keep the tech on me
black gloves and a vest on me
our jesus resurected
tv's in the lexus
breezy's wanna sex us
freezy on the necklace
its mafia (where)
a-mafia here
throw your hands in the air for a-mafia yea
i start rumbles when i come through
go bundle for bundle(pack for pack nigga)
i got some killas that'll come through and slump you
i hear them mumble, about the coke they got
till them niggas ran in they spots,and broke they lock
these clown niggas wanna smoke a-maf
now leave em on the floor
catch him slippin while he in front of the corner store
but i aint goin out,(nope)homie im squeezin at you first,let off shots and leave you in a hurse

(chorus)
now all my real niggas pop it off
shoot em until his top come off
i'm gettin money so, i gotta floss
cause im the boss
when i come out, the thugs come out
stomp him out, till the blood come out
he frontin, let a slug come out
i'll show you what a thug about

(40 cal.)
yea
all my real niggas pop at ya
40 and a-mafia
we gettin money ho, we popular
it get impossible to body ya
photographers is watchin ya
my whole block hotter then somalia
40 shoot the hollow points
hope your vest titanium
they dont want you in new york
like the west side stadium
schemin on your money, like a bedstuy
atm
you beefin at 7, you dead by 8 p.m.
internet chatroom thug
niggas thinkin they wolves
but your heart pumpin racoon blood
but im rollin with them baboons cuz
where we call it brain wash
shoot your brains in the bathroom tub
i'll bring them crumb snatchers out
for a lump cash amount
we ride up cornerstore, got a dutchmaster drought
i'll make funkmaster shout
its gonna be problems
call me game, you'll be my new son up in harlem
where we hustle fam, more bags than a luggage man,
like box braids, keep my knots up in rubberbands
my wrist spring bling, my chain summer jam
you should see the hummer fam
the rims do the runnin man (damn)

(40 cal)
all my real niggas pop at ya
40 and a-mafia
we gettin money ho, we popular
it get impossible to body ya
photographers is watchin ya
my whole block hotter then somalia

(a-mafia)
now all my real niggas pop it off
shoot em until his top come off
i'm gettin money so, i gotta floss
cause im the boss
when i come out, the thugs come out
stomp him out, till the blood come out
he frontin, let a slug come out
i'll show you what a thug about