| I’m that OG, some of y’all know me
|
| I used to cop greens from 4G, nickels, dimes and oz’s
|
| I’m like Thor’s brother, so low key
|
| I might swing a hammer, provoke me
|
| Put a shooter where Ko — be
|
| Tell ya like somebody done told me
|
| Never trust nobody who owe me and any wife is a trophy
|
| If Meth the mortician, you know that shovel is on me
|
| To put em in the earth, I do my dirt all by my lonely
|
| I’m all about the Benjis
|
| But that bring jealousy and envy
|
| Don’t trust niggas, they smile it seems friendly
|
| I’ll be damned if I pass up
|
| It’s for bricks when I mask up and run down
|
| On em to get my cash up
|
| Cash Verrazano J Reeds is getting lined up
|
| Sam Rothstein when I lean slump with the 9 tucked
|
| Come and take a trip to the dark side
|
| Fuck around with pigs, they gonna find your body hog-tied
|
| No guys saying they neutral but playing both sides
|
| Homicide housing young cartel with dope tides
|
| Your boy ain’t playing a little
|
| Have em engraving a tombstone with your name in the middle
|
| Fugitive on the run, felony warrants
|
| The police, kicking doors, question all the informants
|
| Carlo, feeling like the war’s on and I’m running through Hell
|
| Blunt in my mouth, gasoline draws on
|
| Vocals, got a laser beam, no other option for you
|
| Die or embrace the team, offers that you can’t refuse
|
| Handz On music, motherfucker, yeah say it with me
|
| Now get your smart phone hater and take a picture with me
|
| Consigliere, no phones, Jimmy whisper to me
|
| Ride 'til I win the war, Cops put a clip in me
|
| Carlo’s, got killers on the payroll, Killers on the lay-low
|
| Killers that will kill when I say so
|
| There’s a war going on outside, nobodies safe from
|
| I gotta get this money now, we gon' take some
|
| A politicing with these clowns, bout to shake something
|
| I’m gonna hit em with the pounds, that’ll break something
|
| Y’all better run and get your boots time tight black
|
| Y’all fornicating with this money, get your life rap
|
| Straight music, motherfucker cause it’s like that
|
| I come and hit em in the dark, call it nightcap
|
| And I be fucking with the starks, he my ace boon
|
| Don’t let us catch you in these parts or we gon' bake rooms
|
| And yo them cats you running with, yo they some fake goons
|
| I’m bout to sweep em in the finals, gonna shake brooms
|
| The situations getting chunky, tension mad thick
|
| Like you could cut it with a knife, cloak and dag' shit
|
| Hanz baby, PLO on some Arab shit
|
| My killahs coming with them cannons, bout to blast shit
|
| Streetlife chip off the old block, the hard rock
|
| Apply pressure to your neck 'til your heart stops
|
| Got ‘em all lean like codeine, microphone fiend
|
| I’m an addict, I’m addicted to rap cream
|
| New day is dawning but I’m stuck in my old ways
|
| Gave you fair warning, I’m reloading, okay?
|
| I ain’t gotta say it’s on, pop up at your front door
|
| Early morning, guns drawn, like ding dong
|
| Cash, I get it up, my niggas, I can’t get enough
|
| Won’t stop rocking 'til I’m sitting up on Diddy bucks
|
| A semi tuckin, witty fucker, picture getting city stuck
|
| This city buck is sick of flipper, motherfuckin' city bus
|
| Big whip, coasting, throat stroking, slow motion
|
| Slow groove, so smooth, old school, Billy Ocean
|
| Caribbean Queen, mean body, Dereon jeans
|
| Cherry bomb, the way she blow me, she like dreams
|
| Enough with the petty con schemes, I need Enron cream
|
| Short minute before I end up with that Benz on lean |