Lyrics:
At it all week
Been at it all week
I been grinding all week
Niggas is not stopping me
"You know 2nice is on the beat"
Been at it all week
My phone
up the phone and give my homies a call
What's up with y'all? (What's up y'all?)
Livin' in the city where we born to ball
Rolled up a Philly we pack
wanna go outside but don't wanna get sick
So I'm sitting by the light and hoping this ends quick
Cause I wanna live my life, a movie with no skits
Girl,
Waking up at 11 AM
I wish I could say last night was mayhem
Discord with the boys, cereal at two
Regretting a song about waffles, so bleu
Sickness
gangnem', no cuban
How the fuck I get upset over that shit?, I'm only human
How the fuck you leave me all just by myself?, Like where have you been?
I was
with
Nothing
Lean on me
Not no robitussin
We really started off with
Nothin
Ona block two twelves
Got it jumping
We really started off with
Nothing
[master p]
You know what?
This ghetto got me so crazy
My life, it almost feel like I'm a phone call or ring away from death
Ain't this fucked up
Big
best room
That fire place got chest room
Two guests, indian or you gotta be arabic
That hour glass look mighty round
Is it real or did you inherit it
There's an intruder in my house
He cut my phone line, can't dial out (shit)
I scream for police, but I doubt
They're gonna hear me when I shout
up
Ima let ‘em in
Double G's shawty
cll up on my lens
Father god forgive us
Cus we fenna sin
cll this dirty money
Count it by the tens
I ain't
tight
I stole bikes
Sold em to the neighbors for the low price
It's getting dark run up on you from both sides
I drove by
Hop out put the pistol to your
at least a grand
Gold on my neck, my pistols close at hand
I'm a self-made monster of the city streets
Remotely controlled by hard hip-hop beats
But just
three spots for my home
Three hoes to give dome
3 plays on 3 phones
Whippin 3 lambos bro
Niggas acts likes hoes bro
Niggas b 2 nosy- like they got 3
I dont wanna talk about the cash flow
Sicklo thats not what i'm here for
Split personality akimbo
Takin shots with no pistol
No love for a bimbo
Bend
numbers I gave the celli to my mans
Phone worth a ticket so I'm going need two million in advance
Claim he did me wrong I wouldn't even give that boy
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
Hey
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
Whoa-woah-woah-woah
Knows its more than life then trappin, robbin shootin' pistols
Told bro
trillionaire
I got them bricks 4 the high
And the purp by the pound
I'm posted on the block till the sun go down, down
Nigga, I fuckin' hustle, nigga, I
for real) g ry got me
Uh, uh
And we keep pistols
(And we keep the pistols)
Rocket launchers missiles (yeah)
Youngins will walk up and hit you
(Grrah,
(what)
How us young black thugs made history
We be some tru niggas on the rise
And we gonna ball till we fall
Two shots to my dead niggas on the wall
racks)
Was making 2K by the day(da day)
I lurk on the phone for some plays(what else)
I hit up Mecholla for 8ths(for 8ths)
I hit up Michaela for face(for
subliminals
See, all my life I was raised
By a lot of criminals
So all I know is scratching
My pistols and my genitals
Picture this: picking kicks out
Of Foot
subliminals
See, all my life I was raised
By a lot of criminals
So all I know is scratching
My pistols and my genitals
Picture this: picking kicks out
Of Foot
Tycoonin' and timin', strivin' and grindin' to get my money on
Rappin' and rhymin', tryin' to go diamond and talkin' on my phone
With the music slappin',
a barber
bitches everyday of the week, I cut my roster
Two twin pistols, blood brothers
Lately I been sonnin' niggas, hell of a father
Hit after hit, I keep
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