Y'all Can't Never Hurt Us Lyrics - Philly's Most Wanted

Verse 1: Mr. Mr. & (Boobonic) 

Yo, I'm two short of a brick, you two wit' me? 

(I got two O's and I'm bringin' two hoes wit' me) 

Look, don't bullshit me, scoop and come get me 

(Shit, I'll be there in ten unless the Feds come hit me) 

(I move like lightening, thats what I was told) 

we can't trust these niggas, keep it comin' in codes 

(we had a deal on the table since ten years old) 

was on Readyrock records, LP went gold 

(we had 36 groups, but they cooked up Nine) 

managed 28 groups, what they cooked was mines 

Niggas wanna act fly, we forced to hit 'em up 

(and we just sold y'all a brick in code, so nigga what). 

Chorus (Both) 

Bullets from the chrome, Feds tap my phone, look (y'all can't never hurt 

us) 

you'll fuck my bitch, shoot at my whole click, look (y'all can't never 

hurt us) 

'cause we'll shake the Feds, take ya bitch, money long, we got locked we 

appeal the shit 

bullets from the chrome, Feds tap my phone, look (y'all can't never hurt 

us) 

Verse 2: (Mr. Mr.) 

I pass through more bills than congress in D.C. 

stacks so thick you think you see 'em in 3-D 

if I'm outta town I phone home like E.T. 

drive a CE, try CL fever 

move plenty coke, got more spots than Cheetahs 

got heaters, ain't scared to pop neither 

shoot you, them three, and him too 

thats my procedure, fuck you gon' do? 

hustle for all C's, you don't even dig 

chick, car, chips, cold ass crib 

best man at that, I'm the rap Taye Diggs 

Most Wanted keep it lethal like Murtaugh and Briggs 

a nice banana clip, I'll split your wig 

I'm a gangsta, you scared to death ain't ya? 

carry more weight on boats than ten anchors 

Southwest playboy like Hugh Hefner 

I lied, and my bitch be out in one gesture 

cut coke open, give it a tongue tester 

face get numb it's good shit I'll bet ya 

jump out the Coupe, walk by and wet ya. 

Chorus 

Verse 3: (Boobonic) 

Nosey ass niggas don't believe shit stink 

'till I cock the glock and put two through his mink 

you loose with your lip? well, keep your vest tight 

357 Mag in a Jag S-Type 

don't talk me to death, you mothafuckas is just gettin' by 

while I'm rich bitch, just gettin' high 

you ain't on my level, you still admire skanks 

while I'm at Vic's Secret photo shoots with Tyra Banks 

and I'm not lyin', my advice is stop tryin' 

I bust big shit that'll never stop firin' 

catch me at the bar whether it's the clam, shark, or sky 

I hate when rat niggas start to lie 

dog, you don't got bricks 

I never seen you in the drop nor with a bitch 

you got your champaigne glass straight up, could tell you ain't never 

poured Cris' 

or bust a nigga with the Four-Fifth 

stop your bullshit. 

Chorus 4x