| K Slay don’t want me out here
|
| They don’t want you out here dog
|
| His mother fucking face long
|
| K Slay, New York City
|
| Holler at your god damn boy
|
| We don’t rock no mother fucking ice baby
|
| We rock this real shit dog
|
| And (?)
|
| Some fuck with it
|
| Its going down
|
| The elevator with the crib
|
| Bling with it kid
|
| I built one in the Bill Clintons
|
| Mills was spent, still don
|
| Still (?), still yacht flying
|
| Still kill a bitch
|
| Still kill a flick
|
| The fifth out, don’t even breathe
|
| Out in Ghana with the ill thieves
|
| Slick hammers, we all fam
|
| What
|
| Pull out the four, pop the chump
|
| See the luxury mall
|
| The casket leather, the python seats velour
|
| Flash back
|
| He in them Benz lenses
|
| Acting like he did ten sentences
|
| Something ain’t real
|
| We go excited, parked the truck
|
| Just leaned a light and twist a blunt
|
| Sat back son, (?)
|
| This money on it
|
| And to them young niggas strong on it
|
| Devour the snitches
|
| You got on, you born with it
|
| Make a toast for ours
|
| For all the money and powers
|
| The right division
|
| Don’t ever let corns get it |