| Young nigga, Glock on me with my chains on
|
| I could never switch up on my day ones
|
| You can’t name one nigga that I changed on
|
| I been gettin' to the bag all day long
|
| I came from poverty, straight out the mud
|
| My niggas ride for me, yeah we some thugs
|
| They on the side of me, strapped with them slugs
|
| It’s animosity, they show no love
|
| Big bag, I been getting to the money
|
| I know niggas out here really wish I bummy
|
| Glock twenty-three, tucked by the tummy
|
| Cock it back, pull the trigger nigga please don’t be a dummy
|
| We gon' ride around his block and let them shots off
|
| If we catch a op slippin' let them Glocks off
|
| All my niggas official and y’all be knock offs
|
| Bitch we do this in loving memory of Popoff, uh
|
| I been gettin' to the bag, put on for my section
|
| I can’t really trust a soul so I keep a weapon
|
| Got Balenciaga’s on my feet every time I step in
|
| Two fingers with a thumb, you know what I’m reppin'
|
| Young nigga and I gotta get my bang on
|
| Keep a Glock every time I got my chains on
|
| Big choppa enemigos we gon' rain on
|
| Young nigga I’m just tryna put the gang on
|
| Young nigga, Glock on me with my chains on
|
| I could never switch up on my day ones
|
| You can’t name one nigga that I changed on
|
| I been gettin' to the bag all day long
|
| I came from poverty, straight out the mud
|
| My niggas ride for me, yeah we some thugs
|
| They on the side of me, strapped with them slugs
|
| It’s animosity, they show no love
|
| Oouuah
|
| Decades, decades, I been in it for decades (Decades)
|
| Methane, propane, ninety-one oct-in-ane
|
| Cocaine, cocaine comin' outta the gih-name (Gih-name)
|
| Magazine that’s the street I clih-zame
|
| Some of my comrades doin' it big, some of my comrades doin' it small
|
| Me personally, I sell music and alcohol
|
| They call me E-40 I’m not a phony (Not a phony)
|
| The soil love me like fried bologna (Fried bologna)
|
| I’m havin' my cheese and grits with my prawns and my fried fish
|
| Back in the glory days, I used to sell hella bricks
|
| Then I went to hibernation and took a vacation
|
| How many years ago? |
| Thirty plus years ago, statute of limitations
|
| When I was flea-flickin', I was servin' the other side (For real?)
|
| But they didn’t even know, just me and my guys (The Hills)
|
| The other side can be anywhere in your city (Anywhere)
|
| When there was a drought I was breakin' down zippies (Onions)
|
| Biatch!
|
| Young nigga, Glock on me with my chains on
|
| I could never switch up on my day ones
|
| You can’t name one nigga that I changed on
|
| I been gettin' to the bag all day long
|
| I came from poverty, straight out the mud
|
| My niggas ride for me, yeah we some thugs
|
| They on the side of me, strapped with them slugs
|
| It’s animosity, they show no love |