Lyrics Huey - CyHi Da Prynce, King Louie

Huey

How real is this?
Cyhi!
I’m from where them hammers rung
In Atlanta’s slums
Pop a nigga sit and wait for the ambulance to come
I know if you a shooter by the way you handlin' the gun
Gamble and your done
Shells burn like candles in the sun
I’m not a fan of gun violence
Nor having a strap but get popped once
And I swear that you’ll be scramblin' for one
But our plans was to get funds and skate off the set
So I mix the kush with the dro, to make all my weight stretch
I’m from where the dudes rob and argue all day about
Who’s the best MC?
Cyhi, Stacks or T. I
While doggin' the GBI
My bad I love Jeezy
But I’m still the best to ever do it and I ain’t even put a CD out
So the next time you say the A ain’t got no lyricists
I just think you ain’t got enough taste for this exquisite shit
My verses are like Leviticus to the underprivileged
I make music for the world
You make music for a stripper-bitch-nigga
Black leather beret cap era
Guns at your capitol take it to that measure
It’s Huey nigga it’s Huey nigga
Never been a victim, a rebel against the system
Lames wanna diss him and women just wanna kiss him
It’s Huey nigga it’s Huey nigga
This that God flow, what they nailed Jesus to the cross for
And he came back three days after he died flow
This Pablo, talkin' to kids in Chicago
Mob flow, this that midget New Jersey Drive flow
Side note, I wrote this rap with my eyes closed
Bravo, cause it came out clean as the mosque floor
Costco, hoes sellin' they twat for a car note
Benihanas and Roscoe’s
Picasso, Nas mixed with a Pac flow
Rappers can’t stand me, this that Grammy nod flow
Let me stop though, cause I’m goin' digital with the syllables
CyHi The Prynce, and I’m royalty like residuals
These hoes score me they suppose to be hospitable
When they in the house with a nigga that’s not typical
This not fictional, I run this bitch like ellipticals
Can’t another rapper come out of Atlanta if he not lyrical
This that Chiraq where out of towners die at
I advise you book your flight now and fly back
Gangland, banged in, what you claim fam
Box Chevy’s, Foreigns, buck 50 flow
Young niggas got bitches at the 50 tho
50 pack done good drop off 50 more
My city rough but I made it in it
Trap house look like it’s where canes invented
Trust nobody even friends look got hate up in it
Riding dirty with your bitch smoking «wait a minute»
LA gon' ride with Drillinois and Decatur in it
Niggas snitching I’m like way to win it
Nigga looking like a state defendant
My 4 door look like a 2 door
My 2 door look like a 4 door
I’m cuttin' up call me Zorro
Hit him and his mans, get 'em a body bag
Gimme a track and I’ma body that