| Mama ain’t raised no fool
|
| Daddy told me never leave the house without my tool
|
| Grandpa told me never trust a sucka nigga from the street
|
| Grandma said she love me and she always praying for me
|
| But I just wanna party, I don’t wanna hurt nobody
|
| I just wanna party, I don’t wanna hurt nobody
|
| I just wanna party, I don’t wanna hurt nobody
|
| But I’ll beat the fuck out of a nigga
|
| I’m drunk off Hennessy
|
| Hope I don’t run into my enemies
|
| That dark liquor give you energy
|
| Now I ain’t rich, but I’m finna be
|
| Your baby mama’s a flip, she wanna hit a G
|
| I’m back on that bullshit
|
| But she ain’t fuckin' and that’s bullshit
|
| I can’t die, I got too much to live for
|
| I’m getting money, that’s what niggas rob and kill for
|
| Fucking with Tenisha and Keisha
|
| But when Keisha see Tenisha she gon' whoop her ass
|
| All my homies gangbangers
|
| They dry their clothes on hangers
|
| All these hoes fuckin', but they don’t wanna seem like a ho
|
| So you gotta hit 'em on the low (hit em' on the D-Low!)
|
| West side, get money gang
|
| Socked the mouth for trippin', he lost his watch and earrings
|
| Nigga, I’m from Hoover Street
|
| Dirty pictures in my cellphone
|
| On 52nd street I’m well-known
|
| Hoover stomp until the cops come
|
| Silver satin get the job done
|
| Money ain’t everything, but still I’m rich
|
| Money ain’t everything, I’m still gon' crip
|
| From Figueroa to Harv Side where we sock on lips
|
| We break on jaws, niggas since VCR’s, nigga
|
| We hope out cars, nigga
|
| I be groovin' 'til I die
|
| Smokin' weed until I’m fried
|
| I could sell a key to God
|
| Pants saggin' with the Glock
|
| I ain’t wanna pick the box
|
| All my homies gangbangers
|
| We keep a thumb between our two fingers
|
| We trippin' off the Henny
|
| So don’t let me catch you slippin' in the 50's, Ricky
|
| Nigga, I’m from Bounty Hunters, East Side lunatic
|
| Gang bang, slap a bitch
|
| I ain’t with the extras, I ain’t got a stunt double
|
| You ain’t got no hands so they might let the gun touch you
|
| Is you bangin' or you ballin', nigga?
|
| You a fax machine, we can’t call it, nigga
|
| Everybody ain’t a friend, reason why I keep a fo'
|
| You wanna gamble with your life, bet that on the tender-fold, nigga
|
| She bouncing that ass, go ahead shake it
|
| And if she give me that back, bitch, I’ma break it
|
| Shit, that pussy is overrated, some niggas’ll chase it
|
| She acting like she be nuttin', some bitches are fakin'
|
| You fightin' to save many souls, know that you losin'
|
| These bitches the reason why some niggas be snoozin'
|
| YG, dawg, you heard how they left his brains hanging?
|
| Shouldn’t have chunked his fingers up if he ain’t bangin'
|
| I’m sayin'…
|
| But I’ll beat the fuck out of a bitch
|
| Why you bullshitting? |