| Look I won a race, 100 miles and running
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| They was stopping, I ain’t jog or nothing
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| I ain’t lag or nothing
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| I was 20 laps ahead of y’all, I ain’t brag or nothing
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| Gang rooting, under pressure, I ain’t let them down or nothing
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| Everybody got they cameras, hand me a towel or something
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| All my hard work, all them days in
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| Y’all know where I started
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| All them late nights going retarded
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| Running with the wildest youngings
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| Smelling like 1000 onions
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| Damn that shit don’t count for nothing
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| When I told 'em I was coming
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| They just thought that was I bluffing
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| Now my fans out overseas pay me 20 thou to touch 'em
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| Pretty ladies, yeah I love 'em
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| Come backstage, they let me fuck 'em
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| Free Of Charge don’t owe her nothing
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| I was rushing, I was getting ready
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| Make her hold my luggage
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| Met her once, she let me fuck her twice
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| She know I might fuck up her life
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| Too lit to have a fucking wife
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| She fine enough to wife tonight, so fuck it
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| She can board her flight
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| Love Ruth Chris might get her something to go, I guess I’m sorta nice
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| Never been on dates, I risked my life
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| She see me blowing this pipe
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| Baby I’m not regular, no I’m not your average dude
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| I grew up a hard knock, that’s not up my avenue
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| Gotta move something like the president
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| Can’t leave no trace or evidence
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| Or location, if I’m there too long I gotta move
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| Fuck it, you just stay right here cause I don’t like your attitude
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| Big G Herbo, don’t leave the G out when you say Herbo
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| Never leave the G out
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| Glock on me every day I leave out
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| Only way I be out, niggas know what we bout
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| Condos downtown, cribs in the suburbs, finna cop a beach house
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| Gold on everywhere, foreign whips everywhere, pull up skrt out
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| And I got more coming, got another tape dropping
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| Got another tour coming, yeah I made more money
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| Finna do more stunting, 120 lane switching, still ain’t push the sports button
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| Back to the program, niggas hating but they whores love me
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| Still getting tour money
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| 15 for a 16 so yeah, it mean a 8 like 4 something
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| Put a couple little racks in the old school but it still ain’t running like the
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| Porsche running
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| Remember yelling 47 with the torch running
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| Hittin cuts on the ops block
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| Lakeside pistol run up on the porch gunning
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| All my niggas all about money
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| In the middle of the war hustling
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| Hustle homies and you know it touch us
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| Shut the whole block down, no more hustling
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| Start all the wheels up, load the steel up
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| Everybody on the team tryna score something
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| Flat on the ra-ra, they on high-high, rolled up out in traffic, dropped four or
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| something
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| Yeah, them killers like Jon-Jon
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| But we ain’t going out sweet, no, cops dying
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| That means ain’t no cops killing us
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| Ain’t no ops killing us
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| Some say I might sound cocky
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| Some say I might sound scary
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| But I know that I’m gon' get home where I’m from that’s slim chance very
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| Where I’m from shit get scary, niggas get buried
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| Riding up on your block, bloody mary
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| Don’t you double dare me
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| I’m from the Eastside of Chicago
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| I’m Gucci where I go
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| Niggas know me where I go
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| I’m an OG where I go
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| You can’t help what you born with
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| But it’s on you if you die broke
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| If I die before I wake
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| Have a party when I go
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| 20 Rollies in a roll (?) if I wake before I go |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Something , by - G Herbo. Song from the album Strictly 4 My Fans, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп