Lyrics:
the top and swerve the whip
Upgraded my drip from TKmax to designer shit
Louis belt, Balmain jeans, bust down Rollie, half a ticket
Street nigga, and I'm
Geldbündel und Louis-Belts
Es fliegen wieder Kaliber-50-Kugeln aus der Fahrerseite hinter mir, Fler auf dem Rücksitz
Vorne sitzen zwei, die ihr kennt,
above all you jive suckers
Listen, that's word to my mother
You throw a shot at me
I'm throwing a shot back
Your's is on a joint
Mine's whistling by your
The Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer of the Roc
I take my chain, my 15 seconds of fame
And come back next year with the whole fucking game
Ain't nobody expect
I only paid fifty-three
Never change on the guys
We play by the rules
Made a way outta nothin'
We paid like the Jews
Put a two on that dog, yeah
I
childhood, you really from the streets too
I know bout your ex-man and how he used to beat you
Now we at the Louis store, I took you just to treat you
No more
Live by the code, die by the code
Never been a hoe, bury me before I sell my soul
Live by the code, die by the code
Never been a hoe, bury me
Got a strike up on my record
And I'm playing shit for what it's gonna be
A nigga sitting on his last hundred
Plus I owe the homie 50
And my bitch
This is the final boarding call for flight 1259
Departing from Los Angeles final destination to St. Louis
Thank you
Damn G the spot's
jazzy bitch in milano
With niggas pay me the model
Sway Louis on my feet still running the street
And I never missed a heartbeat
Family over
on
The homie Great John on the beat, by the way
Don't Come Outside, Volume 3 out now
(Great John on the beat, by the way)
I'ma fan Heavenly Father but
the Glock
(Chorus)
From the streets below to everything above
To the heart that pumps Ra-kim Allah's blood
I swear I kick a hole in your speaker
the clowns, I beat with no hands
And the two O-Z's, down to fifty-four grams
With two to the face, I'm a basket face
With fifty-four seconds to outer space
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
walk right
I use 2's by 2's
Like I'll you stupid
Toilet paper niggas streets up,
When It's time for me to use it
Take a picture of my hair cut
My
the melody of
Forty-Second Street
Little nifties from the fifties, innocent and sweet
Sexy ladies from the eighties, who are indiscreet
They're side by
in your life was always right now
My Word is My Bond I'mma Don
(Playing in background)
One's Five's Ten's Twenty's
Fifty's Hundred's Ain't Shit
by a booster, then we gon' hang the noose up
It's all over with (yeah)
All they found was his Louis scarf with his DNA all over it (mm)
Who's
Yeah, yeah
(Ayye JD Let Me Hear That Back)
Would you buy that Rolex? It's 50 grand (50 racks)
Tryna be like Bruce Wayne, give the whole city bands
light up any second
I got tree, I got wraps, it's a wrap
Then I rap let me say it for the record
(SHINY, SHINY, Shiny Pokémon Sparkle)
Still SHINY!, still
cut and my grill be slugged up
My heart filled with anger, 'cause nigga I don't give a fuck
Stack my cheese up, 'cause one day I'ma give this street
dismiss you
The second you listen, the second I got you
I swear to god I'm
The reincarnated Young Sinatra
Visualizing the realism of life and actuality
the street made me oh lord forgive
Me for my sins never sin again protect
Who's left and watch our steps Hundred enemies with fifty bullets
One shot two men
I'm paintin' and shit
Mix the Louis with the Fendi (yeah)
I was in Louis with blicky (yeah)
Got fifty racks in my Dicky (yeah)
Get a nigga whacked for
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