F.O.D.

Fuck y'all who thought we were taking a fall you made the call, but we didn't drop the ball
Took drastic measures time to get the look of the trade, sick of the cry baby serenade
What you say?

Come out and pla'ay
You know that ass will sla'ay
'Nuff respect given to the Mojo
And if you don't wanna give it, then we'll take it ho'

Originality get off the dick and all you jealous bands keep talking shit
Back stabbers, ain't no friend of mine
Cross the line
You know that ass will be mine

FOD, four piece of doom
FOD, four piece of doom
FOD, four piece of doom
FOD, four piece of doom

New sound Atlanta shaking you up like Fanta

Pop goes your top 'cause we're getting real hot
Two crackers and two niggers who ain't scared to pull the trigger
Those who dissin' us can get the middle finger

Mad as hell with a rebel yell
You suckers sold us out 'cause your soul's were for sale
We walk the walk and talk the talk

It's not our fault that your ass fell of

Originality get off the dick and all you jealous bands keep talking shit
Back stabbers, ain't no friend of mine

Cross the line
You know that ass will be mine

FOD, four piece of doom
FOD, four piece of doom
FOD, four piece of doom
FOD, four piece of doom

You love her, she love him, she love heart break

Suckers wanna battle, but they don't know how, just another reason why my attitude's foul
You had enough, you're calling my bluff
Well step into my zone and see if you're rough enough
Boom-bam bands getting (spit)

You got to get rid of the flam
Monkey see, monkey do
Punk, you're fucking with the four piece of doom, four piece of doom
Four piece of doom

FOD
FOD
FOD
FOD
FOD



Credits
Writer(s): Richard Park Ward, Theron Gerrod Archie, Brent Alan Payne
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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