Lyrics:
wrote it myself by the way (amen)
Yo Young, Jeezy (amen)
Jizzle, Snowman (amen)
We gotta give the streets what they want man (amen)
Fuck the god damn
by the way
Yo Young, Jeezy, Jizzle, Snowman
We gotta give the streets what they want man
Fuck the god damn sheet man
You gotta get it in bruh
fuck it, young nigga I tried
Not in the streets, I was never that guy
I was too busy just worried bout mine
Small city nigga who was tryna get by
Had big
smack the spackle and erode
A blue-eyed pie a la mode
While I behold
Bestow my humble abode unfold
I'm rumblin' bold, I'm told
Real street nigga in my boots yeah you know ain't no shakin'
Every morning wake to mary j you know I be baken
On my moment to rise I been plotting
She a real bad girl that belongs to the street
She'll be singing my song by the end of the week
Maybach
Roll with my brother from way back
We pull out
In Scarlet Town, where I was born
There's ivy leaf and silver thorn
The streets have names that you can't pronounce
Gold is down to a quarter
da cake throw away da humble pie
Once I take off I ant landing again I stay high on cloud nine gas up on cloud ten always gn put sumn on lil homie nem
mix tapes raw
Life ain't always been pretty like nah
On the north side of the city where its gritty like pie
We did what we had to done to get by
Yea i up next, hear i up next
In these streets best you stick and move
I's a shooter by the oath
Two bad bitches I can't pick and choose like fuck
from the forty block, over there by the Carey Arms across the street from Gerson Parks. I’m just trying to diversify, ruger in that 40 block, see me with
When I woke up this mornin' I felt a pang.
I was hungerin' for some apple pie.
Stumble in the bathroom, hung my hog a little bit.
Washed the sleep
I'm at the peak
Came From The Bottom like cracks in the streets
Yea, I'm only in it for the B.A.G'z
I'm not like you
You not like me
I came from
DIY to the day I die
DIY to the day I die
DIY to the day I die
Murking with ease for the piece of the pie
Doin it for the streets
Doin it for
the coaches
And I'm a always be in the hood like roaches
Flow is ferocious, dough is ferocious
Two guns by each lung with no holsters
And I control all
ain't phased by jail so they move without merit
Name a nigga that came home and bought a house with street credit but he a legend
Ion know who gassin you
When I woke up this mornin' I felt a pang
I was hungerin' for some apple pie
Stumble in the bathroom, hung my hog a little bit
Washed the sleep
Fuck up the street
Diamond my link, diamond my teeth
Now it's a feat for me to speak
Yeah
Cocaine sexy motherfucker
Uptown flexin' in the gutter
up the whole scene (brrt), fur on the monster bed
Layin' next to the stove, I gotta bag
Twelve-twelve, fingers on cramped, grab the pipes by
sit the googly off the daily paper. Cllip red or blue. Either way the shredder chew. Letter to the editor messenger, let him through
Engine engine
the ground
As well as several bullet holes in the victim's home
Then Saturday evening, a woman told police her car was hit
By bullets on Witsell Street
isn't him
When God threw me on the streets it wasn't littering
Done being humble, the rap game is Royal Rumble
You sit on your mommy's couch and buy your
applause is-
Somethin hot? Catch me servin' stove lyrics
Oven's busy with the humble pie
Lift your cold spirits
Wrap 'em in the cordless mic and yet you talk
Got the motivation to do shit I couldn't do
Pulling up in the coup, like bitch who are you
I been living humble, time for me to drop the roof
Y'all
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