| No, no, no!
|
| I told you, I lived this shit
|
| I ain’t up here just rappin' and tappin'
|
| Spittin' and skittin' and shit
|
| Naw, uh-uh, not me
|
| I’m not you, I’m not you, rapper
|
| I’m not you, Pusha
|
| I keep that ziploc bustin at the stitches
|
| Culinary chemist, I serve the malicious
|
| To break the fiends fixes, one give you the sniffles
|
| The other leave you with the itches
|
| Transport airport with the Vaseline
|
| So I can fulfill my dreams of pastures that’s green
|
| More cash then ya seen, with an Aston that’s green
|
| Me driving up fast with the lean
|
| Zonin' family, keep youngins in them rented Camrys
|
| Door panels full of shit and I ain’t full of shit
|
| Reckless ass, God forbid they don’t crash
|
| From the panel to the dash, it’s four pounds of slab
|
| Nah bitch, we don’t believe in air bags
|
| Cars turn tricks like them Ringling Brothers skits
|
| Whether bitch hop out, or the Glock pop out
|
| Ya know what I’m about, blow to ya sinus 'til the snot drop out
|
| Whoever said birds fly south for the winter’s a damn lie
|
| Got 'em right here, and if I don’t like you, the grams hide
|
| Take it or leave it, soon as a fiend taste it they need it
|
| Make 'em smoke it right in front of you to make you believe it
|
| Prolly think I won’t murder you the way I smile
|
| But I’ma take a lot of shots, A.I. |
| style
|
| And Jada, the name is filthy, but so what?
|
| The motherfuckin game is filthy, you know what?
|
| My mom and my pops really did a good job
|
| But it was the Montega and the 'caine that built me
|
| So I could never hate on another brother
|
| God is great, the devil is a motherfucker
|
| When you broke but they think you got money
|
| Crackers start showin you love, your own people act funny
|
| I tear niggas heads off, I don’t discriminate
|
| Waves, cornrows or dreads, I will eliminate
|
| I’m far from a noodle nigga, I stab up block reps
|
| And turn quiet streets into hot sets
|
| Nigga, that’s funny, you say you a killer, how?
|
| What is it, the return of the killer clown? |
| Akhi, you put no fear in my heart
|
| I make ya people say, «Wow, that didn’t look like my man»
|
| They flipped him upside down, the coroner did what he can
|
| He got hit with ten rounds at point blank and point blank
|
| Coldchain left that nigga stankin
|
| Half static and face, I got the wrinkling, slugs all in it
|
| I had my eyes on his mink and, I didn’t give em a chance to blink
|
| When I jogged up on em, pressed the 40 up on him shocked 'em
|
| Made his head stand on end and like a baby, I rocked 'em
|
| The coffin the cradle, you can’t bite the hand that made you
|
| That’s the beginning of the end, and you a thug that pretends
|
| Call Coldchain «Super Nigga,» I got X-Ray vision, I see through men
|
| And squeeze triggers with bullets that go through men
|
| Fuck with S.P., that’s ya date with death
|
| Got bullets that’ll break ya chest, no sleep like I hate to rest
|
| I’m in the hood like its my fate to rep
|
| I hold it down, any place I step
|
| And I love getting slept on, cause I’m rawer than dope
|
| Fresh out of Africa that never been stepped on
|
| Dawg, I’ma clap at you the minute that you rep wrong
|
| Holiday, the Ghost the main reason why your set gone
|
| Why I love riffing 'em poor?
|
| You wouldn’t understand, cause my God is different than yours
|
| If the world spin in a circle, I want to learn to move backwards
|
| Kill niggas the first minute they jerk you
|
| What you keep the toaster for? |
| Creeping through the hood and
|
| Shit ain’t really good but I’m deeper than the ocean floor
|
| Higher than a plane and meaner than a bull
|
| I want ya insides out so I mean it when I pull
|
| Rappers is talking to me as if (come on)
|
| We in the same boat I tell them quick, «No, I move coke» (uh-uh)
|
| And you and I don’t share no common bond
|
| So forgive me if I don’t receive you with open arms (No)
|
| It shames me to no end
|
| To feed poison to those who could very well be my kin (uh-huh)
|
| But where there’s demand, someone will supply
|
| So I feed them their needs, at the same time, cry
|
| Yes, it pains me to see them need this
|
| All of them lost souls and I’m their Jesus
|
| Deepest regret and sympathy to the streets
|
| I seen them pay for they fix when they kids couldn’t eat (so sorry)
|
| And with this in mind, I still didn’t quit
|
| And that’s how I know that I ain’t shit (I ain’t shit)
|
| My heart bleed but that’s aside from the fact
|
| I live for my kids and theirs and them youngins after that |