Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): J Grinnage, E Murry, J Campbell, F Foxxx, C Martin
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M.O.P.I Luv Lyrics:
Ah
What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove
Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love
You push to impress, and I leave you with less
It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest'
What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove
Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love
You push to impress, and I leave you with less
It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest
Can't stop the love, I know you sayin' I'ma young nigga
Don't get it fucked up 'cause I move with them thug niggas
From old, to life we straight sparkin' light
Bring light to the darkest nights
Blast, blast, P in your area
(M, O)
Make a move and them cats might bury ya
Now that your trapped and your fuckin' with thugs
Let me tell your punk ass what I love
I love to see motherfuckers, that show no love
And start speakin' out like a bitch when you catch 'em in the club
I love, when a slug cat shut down
And then try to post up when they damn near cut his ass down
I love, trying to reach all parts of the map
On a Ninja, with a big Buddha bitch on a back
I love, cats that rap and still drip checks
Like your man Lil' Fame, Bill Danze and triple x
What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove
Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love
You push to impress, and I leave you with less
It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest'
Aiyo, you know what I love
(What's that?)
It's when motherfuckers assume
That they ass can't get popped at 12 o'clock in the afternoon
I got the balls to come through your walls, like
(Boom)
Have an orgasm every time I clear the fuckin' room
Nah, not just yet
(Niggas is gone)
I need to see you son of a bitches sweat
What I got, son, my shit is prop', son
(I love)
With Prem' in the drivin' seat and Freddie Fox ridin' shotgun
Here is the ultimate
(Stop son)
Somethin' I love is when thugs be bumpin' my shit
Niggas with heat, niggas that's deep
(I love, I love)
Niggas that regulate the streets
(Sho' nuff)
Mic blessin, Smith and Wessun caressin'
With the Desert Storm impression
(First family)
The lesson, I advise if your not ready to ride
On the homicide side, nigga slide
What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove
Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love
You push to impress, and I leave you with less
It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest'
I love beats that are hardcore, dirty and raw
I love takin' niggas burners when they scared to draw
I love plottin' on my enemies, I love to attack
I love beatin' niggas down when they rhymes is whack
I love seeing emcees struggle to make
Themselves something that us real niggas love to hate
It's too late, I love my Ninas and I love my, fours
Blowin' holes through the project doors in, knive wars, nigga
I love the feeling, and the rush that I get
From, Sam, run the Rolex watch with the diamond begets
I love, how my life was intact without a deal
How I kept the newest chromes on my automobile
I love the fact that rappers make the dough, without a flow
Soft niggas, that I stain, like piss in the snow
I love the fact that I survived through the roughest of times
And break the mic when I want, with the roughest of rhymes
It's a luxury to see me emcee
It's so hard, this lyrical brutality, feed's a nigga's mentality
I love, when you niggas claim to be great
Knowin' your mob ain't never lettin' shit, what the fuck is this?
Niggas bustin' shots on New York, I get my vest on
Twenty rhyme clips in my mic, I get my bless on
Loan soldier standin' on the front line, I fear none
Excuses that you give me for your lyrics, I hear none
You niggs ain't no real emcee's
You Sam Goody ass niggas can't write without suckin' down trees
So I love, laughin' at you niggas, while you clappin' at me
I split your head shot from your man, while he's slappin' at me
I feel the hits from your rounds
Your hollow points make a nigga wobble
But, I won't fall down
Yeah, you motherfuckers see it, come on
What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove
Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love
You push to impress, and I leave you with less
It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest'
Aiyo, aiyo, aiyo
For all them sucka ass niggas that don't know, when
I crawl up out the whole
And I got M.O.P. with me, baby, ain't nowhere
You can run ain't nowhere you can hide
(To the life)
With hot slugs at both sides
Split your back open wide
Niggas from the East Side
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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