Lyrics:
insomnia, loss of appetite
and this really insatiable craving for more cocaine
People who smoke crack, they get this immediate
and intense release
gotta live
I was living in a four door, now the crib
All for me
Got a girl who been all for me
When I beat the pussy up yeah it call for me
More money
ain wearing no mask
For the gun kick lift some weights On the bench
At the house boarded up in the project
Low income make ah hundred Dollar stretch
adopted by guerillas
Gotta tank for a car, ice for a arm
Got tattoos wit' skin and scars from brawls
Gotta buildin' for a crib, Manhattan for a backyard
in this bitch
And we all for one better be cautious, son
'cause the time is now
Look, no more talk, where the riders now?
We ain't even tryna hide it
he's the packet man
[Well now you got me curious, I'm kind thinkin bout buyin it]
Three for ten dollars, it can't hurt to try it
[Well what exactly
Except the clientele it's fucked up
I got a homie that's gon' die in jail
Then a few more homies that's
Gon' rot in hell i'm a street nigga
Only in the lab
30 for a tenth
Late nights
Early mornings burning up the strip
(Burning up the strip)
Up twenty-eight by thirty-six (Uh, huh)
Late nights
Early
lint
See I'm a hustlin' giant
Somethin' like 56
Fully recouped as if a come up wasn't evident
Push more drugs than police store in evidence
Promoted by
patient
For dollars make it make cents
In pursuit of the math no hesitation
Add the loot to the bag in large equations
Federal reserve in God we trust I
multiple choice and I times it by ten
Haters be commenting under my page
Like I care what they saying I'm not even fazed
Let me get the gorillas to let out
Stars used to ride with me
Now more than ma lady call me Daddy
Thats enough for me
Chasin down JC
Like hey still forgiving
I mess up like a hundred times
far from the binoculars
So, that smart money finna get that heat out the car
Yo, I'm K-Dot Lamar meets 2Pac Shakur
I got profiled by a few cops, too
in a world of you and a girl,
A few grams in a pipe to make your head swirl.
You must spread the words of the master teacher.
You die by
and wanna compete
Slapboxin in the street
Niggas get mad, tempers are flarin'
Cause they got a few bitches starin'
Just for the nappy heads
But
and wanna compete
Slapboxin in the street
Niggas get mad, tempers are flarin'
Cause they got a few bitches starin'
Just for the nappy heads
But
screw off tops
The school for the arts, the schoolin' docks
Plus few supermarkets and all its human contents
Of ruddy is screwed on top like you throw
Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit.
It was now Mid-August which meant he had
Been separated from Marsha for more than two months.
Two months,
Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now Mid-August which meant he had
been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months,
big extrovert
She bad and boujee but want a lot more than a few squirts
More like Beamer to match her new purse
Really go and get green shopping for
[ VERSE 4: Tek ]
All I need is one night, one whore, one million dollar score
Tell God to look out for one more
Matter of fact maybe more than one
So
over a lot of them
But gotta call in my mind
There are these few people who fight for me
Yeah we turning up the speakers, 'till the neighbor falls asleep
the Pyramids
I swear life's a bitch, on a period
For every inch they cut the nose off the Sphinx
I make my jeweler add a few more links
You can look at me tell I
the Oriole on my Baltimore hat
But the only thing I'm addicted to is rap
My friend wanted everyone to do shrooms for his birthday
But his roommate was more
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