Lyrics Returns - 38 Spesh

Returns

Yeah, nahmsayin 1995, nigga
Let’s go!
Huh, ayo
We don’t make threats to niggas, we make shootings
Funeral arrangements, wakes and viewings
I’m the predecessor of the upstate movement
In '05, I was upstate, weight moving
Don’t understand how rappers feel great losing
Be broke all day, then go make music?
Your chain a kilo, but like Al Pacino in Scarface
My nigga, that’s a fake Cuban
I’m innovative with pitchin'
I took a brick, a hot plate and emulated the kitchen
I gave a hater his distance
I need a chef, a maid and two administrativ assistants
Niggas know that I’m true and livin'
Ain’t concerned with fittin' in
Mor determined to do it different
I got a entrepreneur vision
So I don’t mind being the Michael Bivins of this New Edition, huh
All of my shooters listen
They don’t know who you is, they see your pic, then pursue the mission
It’s a few dudes who I’m missin'
So I put weed in a balloon, make your bitch go to a prison
In other words, niggas have to learn
I got cash to burn that I ain’t have to rap to earn
Goin' broke is my last concern
And that’s confirmed from all of my bank statements and tax returns