| In the kitchen, oven open for the heat
|
| Got my young, light skinned ho rollin' up the tree
|
| Wearin' jackets in the house, it’s the Michigan way
|
| Boiling water on the stove, Ramen noodles for dinner
|
| Dope fiends out the halfway house and they still sniffin'
|
| Homie mommy’s 50, smokin' and still trippin'
|
| Still talkin' shit with this Lucio mask lickin'
|
| See my breath when I talk, but nigga, I ain’t trippin'
|
| Landlord is, the nigga tryna put us out
|
| Sellin' all the samples, can’t afford to give 'em out
|
| Just copped a half tre, see my nigga tryna get it
|
| Standin' on the baseline, Scottie Pippen pivot
|
| Needles in they arms just to keep the lights on
|
| Shit, fuck around, be on hardcore pawn
|
| Tryna get this shit off, the winter, we snuck in
|
| Won’t live for anything, but might die for nothin'
|
| They want that old Danny Brown
|
| To bag up and sell a whole pound
|
| Might have to go and get my braids back
|
| Matter of fact, go and bring them AKs back
|
| In the Cutty same color as steak sauce
|
| Eyeballed the work, but was just a.8 off
|
| Vet in the game, first seed in the playoffs
|
| Meet me at the Coney, gotta get this weight off
|
| Balmains fittin' like a nigga went swimmin' in 'em
|
| I’m waxed and I’m shinin', hardwood floor
|
| Whore want it hardcore, squirt it on her jaw
|
| Lookin' at the whore like «what you came here for?»
|
| Linwood nigga, heat on him, no stash box
|
| Turn a gangbanger’s bandana to a rag top
|
| Old head, dope fiend, cookin' up the yay
|
| Young boys’ll shoot your face for them Cartiers
|
| Came a long way takin' $ 3 for a nick'
|
| Cop an 8 ball, tryna stack for the zip
|
| Now I’m in the rap game, verse worth a brick
|
| Fiends linin' up for a hit of this shit
|
| (And I reps that shit, right now and forever) |