Lyrics:
of 'em (me too)
Started making skits in class and stopped caring bout my grades (nah)
Went to college to do film but I learned more by filming raves (yea)
Dangerous!
Friends in High Places!
So much You could get by the Wayside!
Called it By The Pound in the Middle of Traffic!
Money isn't big if none of y'all
bam bam bam
The bitch packed a twenty-two
Hit him in his head, there she laid him
The nigga standin' by the door I sprayed him automatic fires
a whip on the lot, 'bout four-hundred grand
Gold 'round my neck, pistol close at hand 'cause
All y'all niggas wanna get like me
Surrounded by bitches
i still ain grown
Packing a chrome to feel like I Ain alone
Pocket full of stones to feel like I'm on a throne
Rocking two phones just to hustle In
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
pistols, my straps, my peppa my pistols my straps
My oozies, my choppas my gats, my oozies my choppas my gats
The wires the taps the traps
Po-po got me
paranoid, pointing pistols, pollutin' property
Prayers to the most high, we need amazing grace
Instead we go head to head, them demons invade our faith
vehicles full of them pistols
That's carried by niggas that shoot outta windows
That don't give a fuck that'll blow outta rentals
These niggas is sweet, they
(You niggas don't really know what it mean to be a man) Uh huh
I get out of my top and then turn off my phone (No bullshit)
I ain't stopping
in them streets and got addicted
Like a drug he craved with all the thrilling
It was two days in and he was drilling
When he hit that block I swear he
hear a fuck nigga talking (All shit)
I been celebratin' off liq I'm
Too gone
Bye
New zone
Fly
2 phones
Wi-Fi
I need a few homes
My guy
My guy
My guy
My
Now the taste of alcohol is filling up my bladder
What's the date and time it don't matter
Had a pocket full of phone numbers I was trying
Now the taste of alcohol is filling up my bladder
What's the date and time it don't matter
Had a pocket full of phone numbers I was trying
still riding round with that pistol
Live by it die by it hope you get the whole issue
Man I done shed tears for my niggas
Cause of you we jus missed out
striking a match on a box
The boy is sicker with it wicked with it vicious with it nigga with a lyrical pistol and he bout to let it pop
Automatic acrobatic
number on my cellular phone
That's cause I got game
Plus these girls like my chain so I chain swang
But then this guy pulls a pistol out starts shooting
perfect,
And ya, know like every Chapelle skit
And I know ya turnt up quick,
And ya not #2,
But, still,
You da…
Shhhhhh—
Aye,
Hollup,
Aye….
Might have
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隠して
ツギハギだらけの イイ子の肖像
剥がれたコラージュ 燃やして
吠えてる声など 届かないよ誰にも
1 2 3 4
Pussy, im busy, got the cash I got the budget
I'm working OT and my phone
scooby doo
In and out these streets
Never played by the rules
clways stayed lowkey
But everybody knew
Can't come close if you ain't in my crew
If you
flodgin where they at
Only pistols fit his cap
Cuz he flexin all his bands
Niggas rarely die from
Niggas not they mans
I need 2 drops with some forgi
I'm tryin' to roll up the chronic leaf
At a stop sign, I take a hit and hold it in
I cough, now I'm off
Drivin' down the two-lane highway
It's all bad,
This ain't livin'..
[2Pac]
N**** - I hear even the smaller G's be dippin' Chevy Impalas
while flossin' they gold D's, O.G.'s, is who they follow
and falsty knives
That blow you clear out of sight
You're wit' all your might
Your conscious is stayin' by
You all in that sacrifice
I'm going off
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