I know I can't afford to stop
|
for one moment
|
That it's too soon, to for?
|
Push the fucking pack off
|
of the porch or break a pound down
|
Get this strap, if it happen to blow,
|
it make surround sounds
|
Pussycat on my lap,
|
push it back and go to town down
|
Putting rap on my back
|
and I'm black and snatchin' crowns
|
I done came back around
|
like a nigga sellin' crack in pounds
|
I got a bag now
|
but it's nothing to brag 'bout
|
Gun blast in the background
|
I'm a black man with the bloodhounds
|
MAC-10, making love sounds
|
To a bad chick, she from Uptown
|
I'm from down South, not a loudmouth
|
We can fuck around (Woah, shit, woah)
|
Hit the music, baby, cut it down
|
(Woah, shit, woah)
|
Hit a doobie while you
|
do me indubitably
|
I feel like I'ma bust now
|
(Woah, woah, shit, woah)
|
I feel like a bust down
|
when I shine bright
|
Blind niggas is up now
|
(Woah, shit, woah, shit)
|
In the cut, big black truck,
|
pack sacked up
|
You can pick it up now, nigga,
|
fuck it, okay (Ayy)
|
Push the fucking pack off
|
of the porch or break a pound down
|
Get this strap, if it happen to blow,
|
it make surround sounds
|
Pussycat on my lap,
|
push it back and go to town down
|
Putting rap on my back
|
and I'm black and snatchin' crowns
|
I know I can't afford to stop
|
for one moment
|
That it's too soon, to for?
|
Me and my money attached emotionally
|
I get to clutchin'
|
if you get too close to me
|
I'm at the top where I'm 'posed to be
|
Jumped in the game,
|
niggas act like they coaching me
|
Four hundred racks
|
ain't shit but a show to me
|
I'm on the road
|
and I bet that your ho with me
|
When I'm in traffic,
|
it's always a pole wit' me
|
Pillsbury man, I keep dough with me
|
Hit from the back
|
She giving me slurp
|
and I ain't even pull my pants down
|
Jump in the box
|
and slide to the other side,
|
it's always a man down
|
Draw down, hands in the air, nigga
|
Make one move, get gunned down
|
Giving out smoke so long
|
They don't even wanna talk no more,
|
they just run now
|
No locked doors, I serve with a chop
|
Bitch got spent,
|
she was hanging with an opp
|
We call him Mickey, he talks to the cops
|
I was on Pinedale, glass in the sock
|
Back in the day, I invest in the block
|
Fast forward, now I'm investing in stocks
|
I put a drum on the Heckler and Koch
|
Don't play
|
'cause I'm very invested in shots
|
Push the fucking pack off
|
of the porch or break a pound down
|
Get this strap, if it happen to blow,
|
it make surround sounds
|
Pussycat on my lap,
|
push it back and go to town down
|
Putting rap on my back
|
and I'm black and snatchin' crowns
|
I put the pussy cat in his face
|
'cause he stay off Cheshire Bridge
|
Then I took it back, now he say
|
that he shakin' and he shiverin'
|
Like the way it taste and
|
he ain't ate it in a minute
|
They call me Yung Baby,
|
but I still got hella chil?
|
Talk shit, run that motherfuckin' crown,
|
you bitch
|
You motherfuckin' bitch
|
Uh, shit (Hehehaha)
|
Sorry in advance for my bros
|
They'll whoop a nigga ass,
|
what you whippin' up? (Woah)
|
JID in the back
|
if you lookin' for the dope
|
Niggas got it in the bag,
|
'cause we trappin' on the low
|
And I'm the shit with the flow, huh
|
Give me a joke,
|
heard a nigga say that you the next?
|
No, no, no
|
I'm the best, tell them bitches
|
stop the motherfuckin' press
|
Press stop, fuck a top-five list
|
Get ‘em a vest, he get lopsided
|
Fuck the cops,
|
we was runnin' from Rottweilers
|
Most of my partners ain't have poppa,
|
just a popped condom,
|
couple kids with Alzheimer's
|
.40 on his side, boy, you Mike Alstott,
|
he on the block violent
|
Robbin' niggas in the hood
|
and then swap genres
|
Green light, line a nigga up,
|
stop sign him
|
Keep drivin', you will not find him
|
I'm a, I'm a, I'm an-I'm an anomaly,
|
I turned into a rapper ironically
|
And ran the bag up, back up,
|
niggas is onto me
|
Niggas should honor me
|
If you think I'm a wannabe,
|
it's pretty comedy
|
| I'm melancholy and c |
