| I’m as real as they come, I follow the rules |
| I’m still in the hood but I probably should move |
| Made enough money, I don’t fuck around |
| I just felt they needed me, so I stuck around |
| Feds got my man, shit is real son |
| 'Cause my god son just became my real son |
| Think life is a game but all you get is a turn |
| You live and you learn, either you freeze or you burn |
| Kush in the air, I’m pushing the gears |
| Love turned into hate, hate turned into fear |
| If it ain’t right, I don’t sign the deal |
| Shoot me in the watch, I got time to kill |
| Gasoline, propane, ain’t no salary cap in the dope game |
| Ain’t no collective bargaining on cocaine |
| So in other words nigga, do your thing |
| Mind in one place, heart in another |
| Please pardon my brother, he’s just angry at you niggas |
| Who don’t have your heart in your rap shit |
| And got too fucking comfy, 'cause we still fucking hungry |
| Young Money, got the munchies |
| Faded, fucking faded, oh yeah I’m fucking faded |
| They telling lies about me, oh yeah I must’ve made it |
| Rikers Island on this flow, eight months for that pistol |
| But at least they had some bad bitches working in that shit hole |
| Ah, three visits later, I went and did it major |
| So fuck the judge, and the jury, and the litigator |
| Watching all these kids who thought they had it figured out |
| And then November came, they let my nigga out |
| Stop playing, I ain’t with that bullshit |
| Niggas act like bitches. Shanaynay, oh my goodness |
| This is Wayne’s World, and y’all are just some tourists |
| Give me three wishes, I wish, I wish, I wish, you would bitch |
| Brand new pussy, pussy good as baby powder |
| Two Glock forties, nigga you got eight problems |
| Swimming in the money, I’mma need some fucking goggles |
| It’s better to give, but we don’t give a fuck about 'em |
| I just came home, shit then got real hoe |
| Lil Weezy-ana, the boot nigga, steal toe |
| I ain’t working with a full deck but I deal hoe |
| I just touched down, kick the motherfucking field goal |
| Talking 'bout baby money? I got your baby money |
| Kidnap your bitch, get that 'how much you love your lady' money |
| I know you fake nigga, press your brakes nigga |
| I’ll take you out, that’s a date nigga |
| I’m a grown ass blood, stop playing with me |
| Play asshole and get an ass whipping |
| I think you pussy cat ha, hello kitty |
| I just throw the alley-oop to Drake Griffin |
| I lay 'em down, tempur-pedic |
| This shit’s a game of chess, you niggas think its cleavage |
| Its young money, yeah 'tis the season |
| I give you the business, bitch this a business meeting |
| My niggas hungry, my bitches greedy |
| Will I die a bloody murder? Dear Mr. Ouija |
| Nigga, I’m straight, my girl a fagot |
| Potato on the barrel, pop pop tater salad |