Lyrics:
Hello?
What up, bruh? What you doin', bruh?
Shit, coolin', ridin' 'round right now, just seein' what you was on. You straight, bruh?
Shit, hell
niggas gon' slide every day (we are)
He been talkin' that shit, I can't wait (DJ on the beat so it's a banger)
I am what I am (I am), what I'm not, see I
ain't lookin' for no trouble, I'm just lookin' out for me (nah)
'Cause I done did shit that niggas ain't talkin' 'bout, no rappin' beef (what?)
Boy, I'm
left him at the red light
Should've mind his business, nah, now he dead like
Uh, mm, like nothin'
Ain't shit comin' out a deceased motherfucker
Skuba
of them shits bloody
New leather, the sweater you never can wear, judge me
Profiling, posted on the ave P in Polo
So silent, smoking on a bag of diesel
enticing him
Limbs relaxed, but your music pop like a Vicodin
R.I.P. to the cd can't even play my hits
'Cause new computer shit without the means
on the water
Wave to the trains
Passing by
Steamships and planes
May never stop here again
But I hope that I do
Sometime
If you're smokin' that shit
You'd
chick
Eagle droppings, fly shit, who gon' stop him
On the grind I am like a quarterback attackin'
Defensive linebackin' homie who gon' block 'em
It's shit like this I kick to these rich white kids
Who just might see how fucked up this sick life is
Whoops I did it again, didn't I?
My
blast, claimin' South East H-Town
Bakin' cakes stackin' hate makin' playahaters break down
If you're lookin' for an exit, cause Houston on the wreck shit
Didn't give a shit about loads of that
But I did give a shit about getting locked up
Or get boxed up, sentenced you'll get about 4 for that
Crap, you ain't
might know him as pullin' rank
But we 'bout to do this shit
We layin' the beats down real thick
And I'm about to get nasty stupid with you funky hoes
Kind of hard to see att night in a house when it ain't got no lights and shit
No gas or water, had to borrow H20 from my relative
Man, it feels like I
The Lottery, you know It's all the Same
Ain't shit Changed just a Big Game
They fuckin' with our brain, it's the Government Strain
Taxes stealin' but
[Intro]
These niggaz don't know who the fuck they fuckin with man
On the real shit nigga, this is Thugline nigga
And I'm that nigga Mr. Sawed Off
I'm the last great warrior of written lyric
You can move to Polo Club bitch you still ain't gettin near it
If its Bubba spittin fear it, this that shit
Yeah, c'mon, yeah
Some of this ol' hype shit, you know what I'm saying?
Fuck with it, punk nigga, yeah
Here we go with this ill shit, I knew I had
sellin' that cooked up 'caine bird
Is a key to a mothafuckin' G
bustin' caps in the mix back in 1983
So that's old school shit to me
I want to live
"easy back it up"
Yeah yeah yeah the Reel to Reel
"easy back it up"
Grand Puba, Stud Doogie, Alamo
"easy back it up"
Kid Capri flippin shit
I was Eazy-E, I swore I was Tony Hawk
Marks getting jumped over colors, some real shit
Anyone fuck with us, we fuck him up real quick
Move to Covina
Go on, remember that shit you was kickin' off
Peace to my motherfuckin' nine
Yeah I remember that old shit
So are you gonna kick some of that
have the zone call all red (all red)
We on a area shit as small as atoms can bust yo shit
that's we packs and make stacks now who you fucking with
(don't
my money on hand
If you don't then you gon die where you stand
Surprise I'm never lettin' shit slide by
Nigga either you gon come correct or you die
on the wall
Before you talk some old muthafuckin' shit
Bitch, it's whatever nigga, we in this muthafucka
For the 9-9, 9's to your head ho
(Mafia, mafia,
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