Lyrics:
fronted me all them drugs, yeah, you showed me the ropes
The way I drive them cars like I ain't had money before
Give my heart to the trenches 'cause they
Father to only my chemistry
Raised by a single mother
Only child no brothers
Stayed inside under covers
Rope tied round my curtain rail for comfort
Saw
Lil niggas claim that they're talking the hardest
Wouldn't even get booked for the gigs by their fathers
Out here tryna live the life of an artist
smoke
I am the dope
Feeling the breeze (Keep killing it)
Grip the rope
Look at the slope
Where does it go? (Let's go go go)
Down in the seas
I took a gulp
Imagine full glock clips
I hold a glass of Remy Martin
Gettin' milks by the carton
Extortin' the light weights for thinkin' they important
The night pays
of the kilo
Where 4 5 6 get ya seated in Ceelo
But life run cheap die for under a C note
I'm outta time no sign of the old me
Mind of an OG dont try to console
Cause even in my city there's no heart in the streets man
We all trying to compete, to make our life complete
By serving in these streets, dodging
a Thousand rupees note..
Hey.. Hey.. Okay..
Mmm..
Okay, you've got a lot of money. But why are you shouting for that?
Someone is going to notice..
So what? Am
too slow
I told you, baby, I ain't saving no hoe
I only save the money, anti-hero
I burn my old clothes and got some new clothes
I left my old hoes
for
I just need a check right now
I ain't got nothing left right Now
Paper paper chaser get it by any Means
Catch a Lyft to ya safe than lift Ya safe if
Murmurs from my old man
Foolish
Is the lonely nomad
Foolish
I am for my sown circumstance
I throw a rope and I call
Why did you fall
They hold the rope
for hire hear the sirens
You smell the envy in the air, everything is fair
This is war, street dreams are made, it's not a game
Motivated by money
a little young
So what's wrong?
You don't have to be old to be wise
Alright, I'm grabbing the reins
Holding the rope
Live and let live from now
a little young
So what's wrong?
You don't have to be old to be wise
Alright, I'm grabbing the reins
Holding the rope
Live and let live from now
Dro, fuck with me (C Gutta)
Yeah
Live from the 504
It's Mr. Crazy Flow, jumping like a bungee, no rope
Even in the dungeon, I glow
Even if
from the 504
Live from the 504
Dro, fuck with me! yeah
Live from the 504 it's Mr crazy Flow
Jumping like a bungee, no rope
Even in the dungeon I glow
It must be simplicity
Are people too good for slaps or daps?
They need to be right and be, "What's the haps?"
Put on your caps for a cold, old world
gang money.
Reminiscing on my first slant,
By the time I was sipping on my first Schlitz
Hit the game, I started as a look out,
See the fly cars that
I'm at the mercy of you
Your beck and call
Like a puppet drawn by string
You tell me the same old thing
I'm not your boyfriend or slave (huh)
All we
Buck 65-Square 3
[intro]
Music to be murdered by
It is mood music in a juggular vein and I hope you like it
Our record requires only the simplist
ranked officials of our city streets
Make millions all triggered by electric beeps
They dress in diamonds and rope chains
They got the blood, Scarface
on
When you prayed that we stayed away from them anthems
Fuck is left for us except for us to go stand on
A box with a rope and a bottle of Spade
Carpe
off
You gettin' Little League bucks my money mature
I'm too old for the nonsense
Cuz if it don't make sense it don't make dollars
So I'll holla
I'm
Drinking and pouring a double seal
Remember the days when I would roll one
And taking trips across the country just for money
You fuck with my squad then
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