Lyrics:
move with precision
Since 16 I had dreams of growing up to be a killer
Skit 2
Nah like back in 2010, I was rolling a blunt on my auntie back porch
The sound of the waves on the embankment
A phone in my left pocket
I'm leaving, you're staying
A forgotten city by me
You're so beautiful, my dream hasn't
bitch bashing
These rappers be swagger jacking
Clap 'em not, they don't even matter
1-2, this lung been splattered
And I heat a pistol on something
I
under the pit
So it's musty and the pistol sittin' comfy
I put my right hand up to God
My first drive-by was on the
Two pegs of a honkey
We was teenagers,
grind
Then she tried to call a nigga phone two times
But I ain't worried bout it cause a nigga got two lines two lines
Aye aye two times
Get a pack
door
Now we runnin' out the back door
Droppin' pistols it's the life of that bando
Man fuck, my mama hit my phone
Player in my home
They won't leave me
All day long just callin' my phone (phone)
You and your friends wanna tag along
2 A.M. I was all alone (alone)
Lamborghini truck in the and the sade
shorty had two hundred rocks
Palmed in his hand I'm right there sittin right by the mailbox
Two niggas with me posted playing music off his phone
Shorty
& I don't fuck with niggas who ain't taking care of their seeds
G Shit
(Skit 1) - [2Pac Shakur]
Everything I ever say is coming from the heart
And if
don't stop"
*repeat x2*
"Now I'm gonna show you how the East Coast rocks"
"??? are jumpin out of shoes and socks"
Verse One: Dray, Books
Higgity-hey
Cause I be out all times at night
Doing shit I know I shouldn't plus I don't be ridin right
Smokin' lye, no stash box for me to put the skit
Two
the city red behind me
My lil Woot de Woot a artist
If I get booked by the laws
He gon bond me out on them charges
I'm a pistol totin
Gas smokin
Bitch
of them sirens I dont buzz
Pick a cop that bugs me amateurs
[Chorus]
[Skit]
Oh man I'm out of gas
Let me stop by this house and see if anyboody in there
called my phone like
"Holla they sayin' Cassidy let Calicoe
Hear his rounds for you" i'm like
"So? Like that's gon' save him"
Well at the face off I was
with pistols in streets
Is way to normal to me
Losing they lives in that shit
If we all die
Who's gonna make and shit
Playing everyone like a skit
Mixed
Whatcha know, bout making dough?
Always movin fast, yeah, my haters always move slow
On the go, every time you hear the phone
Whatcha know, bout
pistol next me
We was Lauren&Nipsey
She say she don't do gang-members
But she Fuck with me
She hate it when the opps got they eyes on me
She kiss me on my
melon in now
With a pistol so big yo it could lift
A hippo and knock an elephant down
Akh, I punch a lot, I'm tellin' you now
And that fake-ass ice that
Pistol and poverty, come get to know us
(Get Top on the phone)
Who doing the drums?
Man put that nigga on the drums man
Yep all day, mortal man
clutching
This pistol packin not for fashion bitch I'm gone buss it
The homies said u ain't did no skit but you a store runner
I make opps have hot winters n
RTD dropped we made a new hit
Don't worry bro because you ain't got a permit
Trying to bag Molly when she grinding up on Schmidt (that's Luke by the way
phones, and I'm ruthless
Two cups on, and I'm vicious
In the war zone with the hittas
I was goin' in the house with the vision
I done came back out with
its my turn to buss
And make weak muthafuckas turn to dust
And if you weak you die in the streets of Chi
Its deep drive by my bullets fly in the seat
punk, slack up.
Watch your weak posse before they get smacked up.
One by one, two by two, three by, Yo P
[Parrish]
What's Up E.D.?
Pass
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