| Me and my wolves are fiendin, homie we from the rotten
|
| Heeeeey «I feel bad for you son» [-- Jay-Z
|
| PA nine rubber grip, AK hammer plate
|
| Roll up, get dotted up with eighteen gamma rays
|
| Runnin with them heaters out, find out what my team about
|
| 5 Fam Click dog with the chips up, you clean the house
|
| It’s life in the fast lane, you lames take the scenic route
|
| G bout to get money, walk around with his peter out
|
| Plus I’m like Rick Ross, I’m big boss and you see the clout
|
| My hammers click off then you big floss and the heap come out
|
| Homie can’t stand the rain, duck from my candy paint
|
| Truck where your man is slain, we fuckin banana flames
|
| Fuck all your glamour fame, give up the grands and chains
|
| G in the phantom range, roll up, we bring the rains
|
| Yeah, we skip a few, whole click we trigger pull
|
| The potholes that Desert Eagles leave are huge so here’s the rules
|
| Came to take it over, lay 'em face-over
|
| Mix it with baking soda, listen to the breaks from Hova
|
| «I feel bad for you son» [-- Jay-Z
|
| «I can’t believe that it’s real» |