| You know how I’m coming
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| You know exactly how I’m coming
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| (I'm telling you) It don’t stop
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| Shit don’t stop
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| My jacket consist of
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| Batteries on robberies, pistol charges, and murder
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| I know I’m the realest nigga you heard of besides 'Pac
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| Got niggas screaming Soulja from the street to the cell block
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| You bitch, you
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| Soulja Slim and his committee is coming to get you
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| My mag 90 bullets’ll hit’chu and split’chu in half
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| That lil bitch boy staff won’t last
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| Up against these motherfuckers that used to taking blood baths
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| I been smoking blunts with the devil, that’s why my eyes red as the fuck
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| Now tell me, do I look like the type that’ll be scared to bust?
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| Well, guess what? |
| I’m screaming out murder me and I’m vest up
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| Chest up, test nuts, watch how I bless ya
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| You bitch made and I’m self-made, Magnolia, Calliope, Melph-made
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| I get through like a scalp blade and Kunta Kinte your left leg
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| I play surgeon and I’ll be splurging in Denalis, Navis, and big bourbons
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| Don’t stunt, dog, whatever I said, I’ll come wit’cha, I’ll come, dog
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| I’mma get mine for the two Gs and I’mma take it 'for I say please
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| I fuck with twirkers not the twirkees, put it on will give a nigga herpes
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| So I stay back, I mean way back, y’all didn’t notice how I say that?
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| Well, then motherfuck y’all hated waving on three Gs laid back
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| As one time we was click tight, what the fuck’s going on?
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| I just come home, my shit ain’t going right
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| Everybody branching off doing they thing
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| Some of 'em in the studio and some of 'em they slang
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| That’s how it go, I know this rap shit ain’t gone last forever
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| So I stash cheddar for hard times, flipping to make it better
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| I can take ten Gs and make twenty more ten Gs with that
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| I’m from the six 'co circle where all the hustlers at
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| You busters stacking from 'round me with all that junk claiming
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| In ninety-five I ran on Tara Lane and bust a brain and
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| Smoking blunts and snorting 'caine with my girl Big Ree
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| 'Til I started spooking out, thought a nigga was trying to kill me
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| Nigga feel me
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| Picture lil daddy think he raw, must’ve forgot I’mma vet
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| Freshen up his memory, then get him set for the flow of death
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| I got a way to make all real niggas feel my pain
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| Any more player-hating ass fake niggas look at me strange
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| Reverse the game, fuck his head up, leave him in the middle of the street
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| Nigga shit ain’t tight enough to G-for-G with me
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| Actually, you don’t even supposed to be in my presence
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| So I’mma ask you like a man, shit, playboy, get to stepping
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| Now if you walk off with that look like you gon' get your weapon
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| And I’mma do you something dirty for all that stunting and repping
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| Now as the beat goes on, my flow don’t stop
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| 'Til I make your girl drop it like it’s hot
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| I can run some shit that make you pussy pop, it don’t matter if you real or not
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| Play my game and I’ll cheat on ya, pull the rubber off and skeet on ya
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| Haters slanging that shit pussy for me on the Magnolia street corner
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| You’s a ho nigga, you know I know nigga
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| And I put that on all my six 'co fa sho niggas
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| I’m X4L chief of the mag booyay
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| Fuck what them niggas doing tomorrow cause I’m doing my thing today
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| That’s how I’m living, just game giving to make y’all recognize
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| I been doing this and I ain’t never took off my camouflage |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song My Jacket , by - Dj Dow JonesSong from the album The Realest, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп