| Coming out that south from the 94
|
| Where niggas losin' there life
|
| So I ride low cause I caught me a dime and I’m trna get hydro
|
| Penetration 'cause patience make it easy to see the location
|
| Life is embrassing
|
| Don’t waste it, just make sure you reach the destination
|
| 'Cause niggas never see things eye to eye
|
| They see you on top of your game
|
| And they wanted the same
|
| But never tried
|
| The devil lies despise that I shot out the truth
|
| And face forty ounces brew
|
| Then cloud out the booth
|
| And sip that four jammin', that screw
|
| Tighten end niggas up if they lose
|
| Just give me a quick hit to the glitch
|
| So homie don’t flitch
|
| Imma come home with the reggies
|
| I twist sense end to the ignorant mind of the misfits
|
| Take more day out of time to develop your rhymes to intelligent lines
|
| The rebellin' the life to a tec nigga
|
| Might have rat-tat-tat my 9 mm gat go brat
|
| If they all keep increasing tax
|
| Imma let that big blow
|
| Explode as bodies hit the floor
|
| We walk in the White House
|
| Cut all the lights out
|
| Changing the rights and reading our rights out
|
| Cause I just don’t give a fuck
|
| Can’t get buck so I’m cuffing them up
|
| Cause the future is not and I’m bout to get payed
|
| So I’m radio time cause the sound is from days
|
| Coming down getting bank
|
| Smoking on that good dank
|
| Diamond against the wood
|
| Sippin' that shit you wish you could
|
| Drank, try to keep up with your image
|
| I can tell your heart is not in it
|
| You’re not authentic you just a pretender
|
| Ain’t no tellin' where you end up
|
| Coming down 4's be pokin' out
|
| I be totin' like that
|
| Paint so wet looking like a bitch drove through the rain
|
| What it do sippin' juice
|
| I’m a fly ass bitch, nigga
|
| Quit talking like a ho
|
| Telling lies on your dick
|
| Think you slick, but I’m slicker
|
| Got my hand on that clicker
|
| Better move quicker it’s a stick-up
|
| For your face be on pictures
|
| They say they miss ya
|
| But that pistol hit your ass like a missile
|
| On my grizzle, smoking dro
|
| I let it blow just to little
|
| You know my flow just a riddle
|
| That I spit off the top
|
| And you gotta give me top before you get in my drop
|
| Amber London going hard
|
| I won’t quit I won’t stop
|
| And it’s Thug Life bitch you know I get it from 'Pac |