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    M.O.P. / Lyrics

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    "Handle UR Bizness" Lyrics

    M.O.P.

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    Duration:00:04:09
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    Lyrics

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    Chorus:
    AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
    Billy Danze: Handle your business
    Can't get your grip
    M.O.P: Can I get a witness?!
    Lil' Fame: Ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled
    Grip your steel
    AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
    Billy Danze: Handle your business
    Can't get your grip
    M.O.P: Can I get a witness?!
    Lil' Fame: Ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled
    Back out your steel

    Rah*echoes*

    Verse one: Lil' Fame

    What the rawdog feelin?
    An author like, Terry McMillan
    The cat that, maniac
    My fam dark as death in less than a minute
    (The world stop spinnin)
    The Rapid FIRING SQUAD
    Keep on mix fire and (hard to kill)
    Loud wires and bombs, firing arms
    Look, we all for it
    Its the dutch burning herbalice
    Gallon drinkin alcoholics
    Walk through your toughest pack of goons with my chain out
    Kept it real ever since the first jam came out
    FIRST FAMILY turned this whole rap game out
    Sheisty individuals, tryin to wipe my name out
    But they don't fuck around cause they know I back that thing out
    And try to mark em off when the gun shots ring out
    And in the myst of black, kid I'ma try to wipe they name out
    And keep on dubbin till I break a fucking spring out

    Chorus

    Verse two: Billy Danze

    You motherfuckas better raise up (they already did)
    WHO THAT? The '87 stick up kids (we're back!)
    I'm hopin that your focused on the side
    Cause frontin on me and my, mad niggaz die
    Is this hiphop? Hell no, this is war
    I've been trying to tell you that since ? rocked some hardcore
    You don't listen. See, gee
    I'm on a mission. Look, be
    They gonna find your ass missing
    Ever since me and Fame came, we maintained
    A strange, but a strong game
    (That can't change!)
    The real ghetto bad shit for blastin, subtractin
    Those that ain't matchin my fashion I'm mashin
    (Retality's real) Fatality's ill
    When your stash in my path then your stash is a raw deal
    (Clap, clap) Get your gat
    (Buckabuckabubububububububuckabucka) blow, blow, get the fuck back

    Chorus

    Verse Three:

    Lil' Fame: FACE MINE Cause I'm here
    Dog its' all clear
    Rap jewels put it on my baseline from a snare
    Then the wanna doubt The Kid
    Who analyze this whole fucking shit?
    Trying to make somethin out of it
    Explode quicker than landmines
    M.O.P. tapes make earthquakes and cause landslides
    Bump this in your Lex coupe
    Or your Lex hoop
    Danze, finish em, twenty-one gun salute
    (The Crew)

    Billy Danze: How many niggas runnin with me? *pause* (this few)
    A hundred niggaz gunnin with me *pause* (to shoot)
    Firing Squad, draw blood on the enemy
    At point-blank range, deliverin the penalty
    AIN'T NOTHING BUT THE THUGS
    Slangin out hollow slugs
    (Nigga), anti-love keepin it real (Thug, let em slide today)
    I'm known best for leavin em stretchin like Doc Holliday
    Salute! *main beat stops, baseline continues*
    *beat comes back in*
    This song was submitted on October 28th, 2004 and last modified on November 28th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Royalty Network Music Publishing Ltd..
    Written by E. Murry, J. Grinnage.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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