Lyrics Last Supper - Dom Kennedy, Niko G4

Last Supper

You know I gotta drop something
We in here
I’ve been making plays for a minute, ladies know it’s me
Since my jeans had a crease, I ain’t never had a lease
Legend in these streets for the way that I can ride a beat
Then get inside a freak, grindin cuz I’m tryna eat
Painting of the last feast, bags full of centuries
Niggas can’t bring up LA and don’t mention me
We was having baggies, sixth grade in the ziploc
Listening to hip hop, my room like a gift shop
These girls wanna lip lock, she tryna get a wrist watch
Only fly nonstop, Dodgers or the White Sox
Yankees better thank me while I’m here, give me flowers
Beats I devour, come fuck me in the shower
I’m the muthafucka with the money and the power
Get paid by the hour, ya mans looking sour
Uh, my main thang was to be major paid
The game sharper than a muthafuckin' razor blade
They say money bring bitches, bitches bring lies
One nigga get jealous and muthafuckas die
Depend on me like the first and fifteenth
They might hold me for a second but these punks won’t get me
We got mo' niggas with Impalas and big cash
Screaming OPM every time we pass
Screaming OPM every time we pass
These niggas down bad, all my dawgs count cash
City view from the crib out the stainless glass
These niggas taking shortcuts and still try to brag
This bitch threw me the pussy, but I had to pass
Focused on the bigger picture, and the bigger bag
When you happy wit' yo life that make these haters mad
Remember days we was tripping and we double back
RIP, wish I could get him back
When they mention Mid City, they better scream G4
Do your research nigga yea we been on Pico
Bitch I’m really cut from it, nah this ain’t a ego
Stomp a nigga in Diors, that’s my nigga Cinco
Stone Island on my waist, smoking Zaza for the taste
Motivated in my mental with a heart full of faith
I’m tryna tell my youngins that life is not a race
And you can make it through when you figure out your pace
When you figure out your pace