| Still thuggin', I ain’t let it change me
|
| Realizing rappers cool with being broke long as they famous
|
| Beach told me I’m the greatest way before I signed a major
|
| I wonder how my life would be, I ain’t take that Jamaican
|
| You get a chance to kill me, take it, miss, go meet your maker
|
| Buy yeekies and buy sliders, help my youngins up they ranking
|
| So rich, it might not feel good when we fuck, but she still fake it
|
| So stiff, I’m gettin' loaded daily, trauma got me anxious
|
| My only true love for my sons, any extra, they get
|
| Our bond, they couldn’t break it, it faded, still sing your praises
|
| You the one knew me since a baby, I could feel you changin'
|
| But give a fuck less, nigga, look at my success
|
| You know you a bitch, keep rantin' 'bout me on that tough shit
|
| Slid behind the wheel, we hit the window, I say, «Dump, spit»
|
| We don’t duck for cover, keep on busting 'til that gun click
|
| Know you miss your brother, I’m tryna help you get to where he went
|
| Just that type of day, they got me feeling like old Gotti
|
| Just hopped out the Hellcat, ain’t fuckin' with no more exotic
|
| Shootouts out the 'Rari, what CEO you know mobbin' with a Draco?
|
| Maybe I ain’t grow up, 'cause my problems, I can’t let go
|
| Yeah, old shit still bother me, my past still hauntin' me
|
| Still havin' dreams 'bout the plug come and frontin' me
|
| Still havin' schemes 'bout runnin' off with a hundred
|
| Niggas talkin' all this trap shit when I really done it
|
| Niggas pump-fakin' this smoke shit when they don’t want it
|
| 'Cause once you disrespect me or mines, you know we on it
|
| My niggas move off of numbers like every twenty a hundred
|
| I throw it deep, doggy gone, I’m ridin' right or you wrong
|
| Put the gun down for what? |
| Who the fuck gon' slide for us?
|
| Neff and Rob ain’t die for nothin', I miss you, I miss you more
|
| Who ain’t up? |
| Check the score, them boys been gettin' torched
|
| Chop somethin', then bend the corner, free them boys
|
| I just made five hundred, bitch, we them boys
|
| One through six, another five comin' through, I’m yours
|
| Lil' niggas lookin' up to the dope man
|
| Got a couple bricks, started off with four grams
|
| Gray been movin' cool, but doggy, we need more tan
|
| Yeah, nigga, I been this turnt since '010
|
| Ask a nigga why, why he never wrote twin
|
| Niggas dissed me done been shot at or been toe-tagged
|
| Water dried up and I’m glad Moski brought the coke in
|
| Thought he was a boss, then I noticed he got broke friends
|
| Every load I got for us, nigga, I always broke bread
|
| Sit it in the freezer, it get hard, you don’t need no fan
|
| Youngin out the east can’t spell his name, but he can dope fan
|
| Flunkies die tryna be gang, I call it smokin'
|
| Search for opps on every block, niggas ain’t drop no pin
|
| Young shiner, red zone dada, I don’t need no friends
|
| Fuck you talkin' 'bout?
|
| You already know what’s up with me, man, it’s EST Gee
|
| 5500, the big general, man
|
| BMF, AO, EST, young shiners for life
|
| Red zone 'til my head gone
|
| Pussy |