Fuck Niggaz

M.V.L.L. (ft. A.B., Ces, Cron Hypnostein, and Roy Rukkus) - “Fuck Niggas”
[Emcee(s): A.B., Ces, Cron Hypnostein, and Roy Rukkus]
[Producer(s): Will Tell]

[Verse 1: A.B.]
Ayyo, you can’t take the heat if your gun too small, so you
Could bring on your clique—ayyo, I’ll run through y’all
I’m trying to fill up with bricks ‘cause I done come too far
Got hit up with a 9, but no mental scar. But, still
A nigga tried to kill me in a rental car. Don’t sweat it
Yo, Cron, don’t let that nigga get too far
Got a mob, got heat, and the squad don’t retreat
Plus the god don’t sleep, so you could fuck around and creep
Lay you six feet deep. Let your bitch [?]
So place your bets on me ‘cause can’t no one see we
It’s only one M-V. Don’t even mention me
Y’all niggas tempting me to bust the lead with speed

[Verse 2: Ces]
Oh, you’s a thug? Oh, really? Then where’s your gun?
And if you ain’t pussy, nigga, then why’d you run? I done
Broke down cats about the size of son
I gets chicks, sip licks, bust five for fun
Cliques spit quick shit. Don’t try me, son
Hit your bitch, then I split through the lobby, son
Spit fifths at your clique for a hobby, son
So if your man dead, by Ces it’s probably done. Y’all niggas
Want it, god? I’ll commit a robbery, son
And come through like Rambo with his army gun
If a rapper said he battled me, I probably won
Hot flows got hoes wanting to slop me, son
Fo’-fo’ snub-nosed hit you in your armpit, son
Better stay out of arm reach, son. Got niggas like
“I’m sorry, son.” Bogart me, son?
Hardly, son. I’ll leave you dead on a Harley, son

[Hook: Roy Rukkus] (x2)
Fuck niggas. Fuck sucker-ass cunt niggas
Fuck ducking bullets—you might have to duck niggas
Plus niggas act like I won’t truck niggas
Fuck ducking bullets—you might have to duck niggas

[Verse 3: Cron Hypnostein]
Simmer to a slight boil
To a cover packed in tight soil. Is it fright for you?
He wouldn’t fight for you. Son is right for you
‘Cause remember in the tight coil?
Baking-hot, face-down in a vacant lot
With a faceless Glock appraising your knot
Gazing, you wishing the days’ll stop, and your
Ways’ll stop, wondering if they’re playing or not
Ain’t been praying a lot in a game
Kind of hot. If you get got, say no name
And stay calm, say psalms, and sing on
Call him Cron Napalm. [?]
[?]. You like them Cajun
‘Til half your head gone. Just suggestion:
Don’t want to fuck up my profession. Guess wrong
Be dead-wrong, all gone. Son
Move on. It’s been proved on
Peace. I’m gone in a black Yukon XL
Cron excel, propel in ways won’t imagine
Fast, blind fury in action

[Hook: Roy Rukkus] (x2)
Fuck niggas. Fuck sucker-ass cunt niggas
Fuck ducking bullets—you might have to duck niggas
Plus niggas act like I won’t truck niggas
Fuck ducking bullets—you might have to duck niggas

[Verse 4: Roy Rukkus]
Y’all niggas running lip. Do you know who you fucking with?
You want to flip? Son, I’ll bundle fists and crush your hip
Fuck your bitch up in your whip, then puff a spliff
Come unequipped with no gun or clip and bust your shit
So suck a dick. Fuck this shit. I never wanted
To get out the pussy, but this bitch who wanted me
To get out and push me, so I stuck my head out
And look, see a hellhole these fuckers put out to cook me
School? Buck 50—I just cut out. It’s hooky
Get high, go home, dig out this cokey
Chick, make her spit out the gookie shit
Make her love the kid, never want to get out—she hooked, B
Rip out her crook spleen in the snap of
The finger. Get stabbed with a hanger. Gag you and
Hang ya. Packing a banger. But don’t act
Like I won’t bang your ass with a razor
Pray to the Lord, send you back to your savior
Murder the nigga with your back that’ll save ya
Pull you out your act full of anger with a ass
Crack in your gay mug, snatching your paper
I’m like a chick with AIDS—you don’t want to fuck with me
Before I fuck with these sucking-meat niggas, I’ll
Be a bum in jean dungarees, mad
Hun-g-ry in Hungary, living under trees
Getting stung by poisonous bugs and bees
Sting leave you so weak, you can’t even fucking see
To make a long story short, I don’t give a fuck
What you ripping. Talk slick, you’ll get a couple of whippings
Fuck niggas

[Hook: Roy Rukkus] (x2)
Fuck niggas. Fuck sucker-ass cunt niggas
Fuck ducking bullets—you might have to duck niggas
Plus niggas act like I won’t truck niggas
Fuck ducking bullets—you might have to duck niggas