Lyrics:
stay solid
I grew up 'round dope boys, I don't need no stylist
I got grown man money, can't be actin' childish (no childish)
I been through too much
press fast forward
Got beef with radio if I don't play they show
They don't play my hit's, well
I don't give a shit, so
Rap mags try and use my black ass
I'm running with the
Tech they call a ref
Man I threw my dog a bone, I told him fetch
My dope is loud
I can't hear you, what you say?
(Boy speak up)
(Hit-Boy)
Uh
In the Rolls truck, waitin' for the light change (ha)
Thinkin' damn, I came from the bottom, look how my life changed
And all I
Everyday all day, ain't no way
Boys can't stop as I slide through your neighborhood
Chop chop chop, headed straight to the top
I only play to win, 'bout
Everyday all day, ain't no way
Boys can't stop as I slide through your neighborhood
Chop chop chop, headed straight to the top
I only play to win, 'bout
don't feel me 'cause I'm just a project baby
At Lil Marcus house, I used to hide all my tools (Stash all my gats)
Swipin' EBT so we could buy all the food
Supreme comes to give his boy a pat and a pound, put his hoodie on the couch, his Timberlands up on the chair so his bitch can bring him a beer. So, this is
All I got is me, myself, and I, yeah
Yeah, bitch, me, myself, and I
(Section 8 Taliban, yeah)
Everythin' 1K, you know that (that boy Cas)
All I
station
Think I'll pull up
Park and pimp right there
Can tell I don't belong
Make them dope boys stop they sale to stare
Take me to your hood
Take me
Shout out, to my man Lil Flip
Big Mo, Project Pat and the whole three six
Yea, I know about them Texas boys
Who keep a liter in the cup, and a heater in
See i came up around them junkies and them crash dummies
From da projects we ain't never had nothin
See we been on our dick so boy don't make us
You get kicked out my class
If ya make one mistake!
(heeeeeey) g-unit radio!
Real niggas! (real niggas) Jack boys! (Jack
Boy) Dope dealers! (yeeah)
OK,
ooh
Get it free naw naw don't pay her
Oh no don't do no favors,
Super Mario game too playa
Project pat boy won't save her
No no can't go,
Know the game
when I ran around the corner by Pat house
Now they got my fuckin' boy on the corner
And if I spray the tec, best believe my boy's a goner
Yellin' down
Boy, it's about to get real scurry up in here
You got the original, break da law's up in here for you hoes
Three 6 Mafia, Project Pat
Weak niggas
i'ma sho split it
(Project Pat) in Hollywood at the stop sign
Watchin out for one time
Clean on them things
Niggas hate cause I'm bout mine
I'm on that
you get that? Where you get that? Where you get that?
I wanna buy it
I wanna spend it
Boy you ain't got it, boy you be trippin'
Boy you be trippin'
Boy
I want ya'll to play this at funerals in the hood
'Til all this black on black crime stop
Some say the blind lead the blind
But in the ghetto you
you slip one time, give tha dope, coke and yay
I don't play
I know I look into somebody face
But I'm solo down
I got ten under my weist
No trace, no
Big mo in the projects rappin, and niggas=z tryin to come up
And with this new wave dope game,
I mean this rap game, niggaz tryin to get out to make
so I hit the ground, my life is on the line
Gotta hold my projects down, can't see myself getting bodied
By a clown ass nigga that ain't even from my
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit
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