You know Life is good, man Life is good Yeah, told you I told you (I told them niggas) Can't fuck with me nigga For real (brr) Yeah (brr-brr) Know what the fuck is up, nigga
Seen the fiend find a vein in her ankle to shoot it (hahaha) Shot that pussy nigga in his knee like we drainin' some fluid (b-b-b-b-b-boom!) Rob a rapper at his own show took his chain and I threw it (hah) Stupid (gimme me that shit, pussy) The renegade, you been afraid, shot penetrated my shoulder Still didn't knock the chip away, my heart only got colder Yeah, cold as Minnesota in October Yola in the pot swole up, stop, hold up (talk to 'em) They startin' to hollow what I sing, they followin' my thing They gotta acknowledge me as king, nigga (uh-huh) Nah, this is God level, ferarr' yellow Buyin' every switch, burn 'em with the stick like marshmallow (boom boom boom boom) You thirty-sum' and broke, still drivin' a bitch car Talkin' bout you out gettin' licks off (hahaha) I was so comfy in the hood I can trap with my kicks off (ah) Now I'm in that 'bach, brown interior, call it biscoff (woo)
Bitch, I'm the big dawg Draw the plays like I'm coach kerr holdin' the clipboard (‘kay) I take time out, I got warriors on my bench, chris paul Whenever I'm triggered, my trigger finger itch more (uh huh) Reach in my pocket, I can pull hundreds out by the fistful, look (‘kay) Ain't nobody put me on, I think y'all took it wrong Y'all better go back, do your Google research and look some more Watch them YouTube vids 'bout the man with them bullet scars West' and butch' would tell you it was the crooked jaw that took us off Verses was eye-poppin, we sky rocketed (‘kay) My mind shine like diamonds in one of westside' watches (hahaha) Went from buyin' sixty-two grams to goin' pie shoppin' My shooter on tour with me he just was on crime stoppers (facts, nigga) Shit, they still lookin' for him Nigga had a brick, gave me two thousand to cook it for him 'Chine give the go, niggas hit your top with a bullet for him (ha) I get big money at will When I'm puttin' letters together, I wheel of fortune I show niggas love, somehow, I'm still the villain for it She tryna fuck a rapper so she can feel important That's why she tryna be all in my section with liquor pourin'
It's six in the mornin', police at my door Guns by the bed, money in the floor Neighbors lookin' at me like we sell that raw Fiends know it's pure, so they keep comin' for more And the blood keep callin', time to up that score One hand scratch the other one, that's just law Your bitch lookin' at me like: He got that raw Fiends know it's pure, so they keep comin' for more
My style is minimalistic, plain jane simplistic I'm like ace and money mitch but really on some pimp shit Fallin' off ain't too realistic, niggas tellin' tales Could sell you news stories but this crack still sells Rule number one, never ghost the clientele Fiends linin' at my door, they need that shit now Ten crack commandments, yo, I knows it too well This the same dope I'm dishin' out just on a different scale Let me break it down if you don't see the vicious steel You see I got them hooked on the real I bossed up in and went to columbia for the deal Like fuck the pop a pill shit, this that pure raw they wanna feel
Scarcity in the market, now I'm spendin' the margin And it's only a problem if the product ain't what it's promised 'Cause any competition get demolished These niggas know my shit hit the hardest, to be honest Graduated from the school of hard rock with my honors Started on the block and made it to the top from the bottom Used to cook it at my grandmama spot, we was starvin' Right or wrong, the truth be timeless Block away from marcy projects, we was prospects Gainin' knowledge on the different ways to fill our pockets Tryna make a profit in order to afford every object we desired Like, one day I'll retire But for now, I'll be the main supplier of that fuckin' fire
It's six in the mornin', police at my door Guns by the bed, money in the floor Neighbors lookin' at me like we sell that raw Fiends know it's pure, so they keep comin' for more And the blood keep callin', time to up that score One hand scratch the other one, that's just law Your bitch lookin' at me like: He got that raw Fiends know it's pure, so they keep comin' for more
Confirmação de Idade
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Compositor: Camoflauge Monk / Daniel Ross / SadhuGold