Ayo, what's up?
Yo, this is Ghost right here and shit
I want y'all motherfuckers to plug your ears in real quick
And hear my man gotta say, this is real shit
Yo, the stand up guy who done did that first had a son named Tommy
Who was the man 'cause he knew every-fucking-body (TP!)
He had a son who was a son of a gun
Who spoke his piece, crushing beef when he shot up the feasts
He had a team of loyal players with plans that ran a fam
A bunch of real motherfuckers that'll stay in the can
Listen, I've been through trauma that you cats can't handle
Satan candles lighting up in the bathroom, testing samples
Seen dope that was soaked, get shot with holy water
Stood calm and left his all for his son and his daughter
Moving shipments, junk deals in the mix, I watch 'em flip
And getting burned helping people, tore his conscience with sick
And stock around guys that live on the edge, while you pretend
All those who criticize don't see the cash that we spend
I know you wish you got your hands on the hits that I got
And all the scum that aren't honorable get left with all gods
You hear them gangsters coming
You better stop that fronting
The M-O-B is coming
You know we got them guns in
You hear them gangsters coming
You better stop that fronting
Now the M-O-B is coming
You know we got them guns in
Though he ain't with the gangsters, the people loved him
He ain't play no games, any lame he'd rub 'em
Off the face of the earth, Tom was determined
To take care of his family and put his work in
A real strong Italian dude who loved peppers
Garlic, tomatoes, and oil in all his food
He was a boss, fuck the ranks, a top Soprano
Loan sharking and muscle was his vicious gamble
Like he'd bet five hundred on the New York Jets
Thousands, pay you triple if his team got swept
That was Tom and this is Tone, we both known
It was like five in the morning when I wrote this song
So if you think this joint is a problem, to which it's not
Fuck you bitch, I'll twist your top
Valentine's Day, mad shit, die with your dick in your mouth
On your mama's couch, me and Mike'll be out
You hear them gangsters coming
You better stop that fronting
The M-O-B is coming
You know we got them guns in
You hear them gangsters coming
You better stop that fronting
Now the M-O-B is coming
You know we got them guns in
Yo, you can pop all the shit you want, Shark'll hit you hard
Like a skipper that reports to the dock
Play your part, why you making this shit hard on yourself?
Hating on the kid, now you're back on the shelf
My clique's tight like hoes in heels with garters on
That broke slots in tellies on 'shrooms with condoms on
Lucky Sevens getting baked in a session while I'm stating this lesson
From a street cat who runs this profession
Yo, this rapper's not an actor, next chapter coming at ya
Bloodthirsty, ravenous Shark, I'm gonna attack ya
My story's too live and too real for Scorsese
All the cats that turned and rat and squealed, you're fugazi
I'm from men that come from men, who live for the cause
To put food on the table like a gangster with balls
State wars got my peoples confined, but I ain't taking my time
Like the sun, I ain't waiting to shine
Watch them cats getting left in the dark like they're blind
Thinking that the day won't come that I get signed
You faggots must be out of your mind, get out of line
Killer fraction come and snatch you up and no one'll find ya
You hear them gangsters coming
You better stop that fronting
The M-O-B is coming
You know we got them guns in
You hear them gangsters coming
You better stop that fronting
Now the M-O-B is coming
You know we got them guns in
You hear them gangsters coming
You better stop that fronting
The M-O-B is coming
You know we got them guns in
You hear them gangsters coming
You better stop that fronting
Now the M-O-B is coming
You know we got them guns in
