Lyrics Nothin' - Tech N9ne

Nothin'

I used to press my Dickies with Sta-Flo
Sold pieces for my reli chasin' peso
Now they want me with nothin' cause I let my pay show
So I hop inside of my Mercedes and let the bass go
On you hatin' ass niggas, I deserve everything I get, a creatin' cash getter
I ain’t puttin the 2 on the 10 I’m makin' vast figures
You fags bitter mad wanna be fakin' class with us
How they thinkin' they gonna come and conquer us?
Little Mini Cooper hatin' on a monster truck
Ponder such, I’ll have you up in yonder stuck
Not a nare not a breath a stutter that conjure a
Nothin', nathin', the ruger’s penetration
Inside of ya head it was soundin' like it’s bassin'
Boom bing bang on you haters in the game
Strange lane takin' aim ain’t a damn thang sane
I get it in, want some drama?
Well I can fit it in
We can make it so you’re no longer a citizen
Suction, from beneath you we just a little dust’n
All because I’m bringin' the bucks in
They wanna leave me with nothin' (Uh-uh)
But they ain’t talkin 'bout nothin' (Uh-uh)
So I ain’t trippin' on nothin' (Uh-uh)
They come to get me I’m bustin' (Uh-huh)
They wanna leave me with nothin' (Uh-uh)
But they ain’t talkin 'bout nothin' (Uh-uh)
So I ain’t trippin' on nothin' (Uh-uh)
They come to get me I’m bustin', bustin' (Uh-huh)
On the block it was hot to not to run from the cops
I used to cop and used to chop and dump my rocks at Ms. Scott’s
And on the late night at Ms. White’s I’m fuckin with Will
We used to play fight then one night we came up with Vill
Young thugs dump drugs nigga hungry for meals
Young thugs jumped blood nigga itchin' for kills
Shit was real in the field man this shit was too real
Lost my homies to this shit man this shit is for real
But nigga nowdays the streets they go hard on the hustla
All these pussy niggas rattin' so us real niggas suffer
Not plentiful for me no more it’s hoes in the game
Since I smell when paper foldin' man I’m rollin' with Strange
Pour some whiskey party with me tell the Feds if they miss me
They ain’t comin' for me now then nigga bet they don’t get me
So all you muthafuckin sucka niggas wishin' me gone
Big homie Strange Music Resurrection I’m home
All I do is sell dope and nigga talk bricks
Talk with bananas and tote clips
Ride around and smoke kush with the yurner on me
Drink them champagne bottles with the flower on 'em
All that talkin' loud, will get a nigga a hit
You see them cherry red chucks?
Yeah I’m with the shit
Anyway I bounce out man I hit 'em up
And I’ll lock up with you we could get 'em up
I still wear a gold grill 10 across the bottom
They call me 19−5 cause a nigga got 'em
Click-Clack nigga yanka get yanked on
There’s been alotta hatin' nigga since I came home
Anything a nigga do homie it’s federal
And come with football numbers in the level 4
They wanna bee a nigga dead man but nathin'
Tech fuck them muthafuckaz they could keep hatin'