| All you niggas days is numbered |
| I’m speeding past niggas: Days of Thunder |
| Tom Cruise, Been bombin' crews since the pager numbers |
| Lumber Jack brown tats started jackin' with the gold up under |
| A dope boy without selling dope |
| Twist a tree, inhale the smoke |
| Money to color Cuban coke |
| Cuban chains and gold ropes |
| Black flags black locs |
| Triple gold Dayton spokes |
| Triple stacks pourin' fo' |
| Rubber band my stacks is dough |
| This is old money from '94 |
| Buckets no bench seats when I roll |
| I roll my windows down and turn the music up, hit the switch and drop it low |
| 808s and tons of low end |
| And light another one |
| This made the smoke end, don’t hop yo ass in if you ain’t down roll in |
| Cause they don’t understand the shining light, they can’t understand this kind |
| of life |
| When you sitting clean behind halogen lights, they start throwing hollows out |
| of spite, trying to take your life |
| I came from the wrong side of the tracks, trying to make it right |
| When they turn white to green, young niggas turn to fiends at 15, wiggled out |
| Shooting AR-15s and Glock nines, bullet holes in every stop sign |
| Ignore cop signs, if they kill one of us, then a cop dying |
| Drop top riding, middle finger to the wind |
| And I keep popping iron until all my niggas win, and every nigga with me sittin |
| on gold rim |
| Been wanting that since Maximums with the gold trim |
| My dog’s been in all gold before the gold trend |
| Dead stop |
| Jordan 10s on |
| Turned on to all of that before the age of 10 |
| Fluffy leaves on the green stem getting rolled up |
| A nigga come from another city, he get fold up |
| And girls with they nose up, acting like they ain’t slut |
| White boys get they nose stuffed, with that pure uncut |
| Man, this world where I’m living at |
| That’s why I rap through these songs down to my fifty cap To my fifty cap |