That Mo - Z-Ro

Mo City Mo City, I got love for you

I layed up in jail, plus spilled and lost blood for you

They use to say we was a fashion show, because it was true

We can’t help it if we got money, but we’ll murder you too

If I beef with somebody, that’s not successful like myself

I’m waging war against nothing, and I would need to check myself

Round here, everybody got a murder weapon

Not a beginner’s pistol, leave and lease a 3−57

If it’s breathing and it’s walking, and it’s talking it’s a man

So I’ve got no reason to fear it, I’ll drop it where it stand

Won’t even say I’m real, cause real got too many new definitions

All I know, I begin and complete my mission

You got a problem with me, address it

Don’t throw a rock into a pack of dogs, seeing if rover gon' get the message

I stay ready to rumble, or to let them guns buck

I’m out that Mo, and I don’t give a fuck

I’m out that Mo, and I don’t give a fuck

With a weapon in my waist, everyday when you see me walking around

I’m out that Mo, and I don’t give a fuck

Bitch stop playing with me, stop playing with me

I’m out that Mo, and I don’t give a fuck

With a weapon in my waist, everyday when you see me walking around

I’m out that Mo, and I don’t give a fuck

Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck

People wanna kick it with me, but I choose to be alone

Ain’t nobody crazy about ya, that’s why you on your own

That’s including me, I’m not gon' invite you in my home

You might not do the right thang, and end up with a rifle at your dome

West Few Quay to the South Post, loc Dead End

This is an area you can get your bread in, or come up dead in

Your ghetto, ain’t no different from mine

But this the one I ride or die for at the proper time, better respect my mind

Respect my mind, cause I’ll kill you nigga

Like I don’t see you, in my rearview nigga

I wish you would, try to play me like I’m soft

Watch me throw this bitch in park, hop out and knock your god damn head off

Ain’t no calling 911, and that emergency

I’m calling Mike Newsome and Grey-D, if too many cowards trying to murder me

But if it’s my time, I guess I ran out of my luck

I’m out that Mo, and I don’t give a fuck

Ridegmont, Ridgegate, Ride Gate, Provilla

Chasewood, Hunters Glenn y’all are all my niggas

Southwest, Cross and Quill Valley, Quillrun

Fresno and Arcola, plus the Dub we all one

Hiram-Clarke, South Park, Sunnyside and the Third

4th Ward, 5th Ward, Trinity Garden ya heard

Hell yeah, Houston Teaxs we hot

If I forgot your hood blame it on the weed man, that’s why I forgot

I’m at the shooting range, jacking like I’m busting my beat

To me it ain’t no difference, between the shooting range and the streets

Do you while you with your people, like I caught you alone

You about to make history, but your people gon' make it home

I’d rather be a lover, not a fighter

Instead of picking up a gun, I’d rather pick up a blunt and a lighter

But it is what it is, y’all already know what’s up

I’m out that Mo, and I don’t give a fuck