| I came to get your car like a repo
|
| Dominican from the isle, nine-three
|
| Fuck Donald Trump, get Donald Duck
|
| Talk about money, try swimmin' in it
|
| I’m talkin' 'bout bricks, try buildin' in it
|
| I’m talkin' 'bout the streets, try filmin' in it
|
| I’m talkin' 'bout the danger zone
|
| Cut class, cut crack, tryna make it home
|
| Before mami get there and flip out (woo)
|
| You know that belt had me screamin' out
|
| «Please mercy, mercy, please»
|
| If you real, then you relatin' to me, ayo, V Don
|
| Let that shit breathe
|
| Ohla, Tanboys in this bitch
|
| Yo, and if a nigga said I’m pussy, we ain’t ever meet (nah)
|
| And if a nigga said I’m quiet, we ain’t ever speak (nah)
|
| That gangsta tone (what else, nigga?)
|
| The gangsta home, ayo
|
| Shout out to Lil Eto, shout out to Sho Gotti
|
| Shout out to Willie Hex, you know we still ridin'
|
| (Woo, word)
|
| Look, listen
|
| I gave it to you real and uncut
|
| Reveal the uncut coke, never stepped on
|
| They tellin' me I’m slept on (yeah, ha ha)
|
| They keep tellin' me I’m slept on
|
| Wake up, wake up, wake up, nigga
|
| It’s 7:30, get yo' cake up, nigga
|
| I’m crazy, yeah
|
| Look, look, yo
|
| Diamonds and MAC-10s, tell a friend
|
| Hollows, hollows, meet your very end
|
| Yo, catchin' up to God quicker
|
| I said, yo
|
| Diamonds and MAC-10s, tell a friend
|
| Hollows, hollows, meet yo' very end
|
| Yo, catchin' up to God quicker
|
| I said, catchin' up to God quicker
|
| Mm, burgers with the fam, talkin' 'bout Little Italy
|
| Sonned these niggas for so long, you can’t be kiddin' me (yo)
|
| I ain’t number two, you can’t be shittin' me
|
| I move heavy, dilly, dilly, dilly, D
|
| One love to my New York niggas who pulled triggers
|
| Still ride low and act figures
|
| All vicious, pitbull we feed gunpowder
|
| Tanboys, they all talk about us
|
| Diamonds and MAC-10s, tell a friend
|
| Hollows, hollows, meet your very end
|
| Catchin' up to God quicker
|
| I said, catchin' up to God quicker, ayo
|
| Yeah, very, all this hard liquor, holy wine, bar mitzvahs (yeah)
|
| God forgive us
|
| Ain’t no feedin' or starvin' us (no), that’s a fed case (yeah)
|
| And a headache (yeah), dead weight (pow)
|
| Twenty-four though, Bodega is litty
|
| I’m with a pink toe, la morena is with me (pretty, yeah)
|
| And she’s a puerta for kitty
|
| Cuttin' up, red top the city, button up, love
|
| Shout out to Ohla (what up?)
|
| What up Bonnie? |
| (what up?), Luka Brosi (yeah), yeah
|
| Gotta have guts to stash (that's right)
|
| Stuff the bag, it was up for grabs
|
| Snakes in the winter, can’t cut the grass
|
| When life tested you, you failed just to pass
|
| That means he passes away
|
| It ain’t nothin' like back in the days, structure’s bad
|
| I’m known well down the way, up the ave
|
| Long as the blow sell powder way, fuck the stash
|
| Hotel holidays, sluts get smashed
|
| Sippin' on cold Pel, proper haze, bumps and cash
|
| A little money changin', what would six figures do?
|
| I’ve come to disfigure you 'cause he missed principles
|
| I hug the strip, hunnid licks, rub and hit pinnacles
|
| Pump a fist, clutchin' grips, dump a clip into you (pow)
|
| Let that shit breathe
|
| Look, yo, yo
|
| Diamonds and MAC-10s, tell a friend
|
| Hollows, hollows, meet yo' very end
|
| Yo, catchin' up to God quicker
|
| I said (catchin' up to God quicker) yo
|
| Diamonds and MAC-10s, tell a friend
|
| Hollows, hollows, meet your very end
|
| Yo, catchin' up to God quicker
|
| I said, catchin' up to God quicker |