Lyrics:
(One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine)
It's the ten crack commandments, what?
Uh, uh
Nigga can't tell me nothing about this coke
started sellin' leek in the yard
Yo, I ran into niggas who used to have hummers
Big as hell in the joint wearin' '86 numbers
Damm dog, you been in here
I been flying around the world
Like I got some time to kill
I don’t work no 9 to 5
Cause my hustle pay the Bills
I kiss and tell no tales
Yeah bet I
live everyday like my life bout to fade
I'm tryna take trips you can have the new Jay's
I set my own trends I ain't tryna ride waves
The seven five left
live through the red-hot heat that stars are?
(I think I interpreted that too literally, by far.)
Why can't he just go jump off a bridge?
(If he's
guns to sell
Don't talk shit to me or you'll be on a highway straight to hell
I'm ex yakuza no kiryu
With my help they will fear you
A layered cake for
I don't give a hell what you spit
Who you are, where you from...
This is...this is projects
I don't give a hell what you spit
Who you are, where
He runs a farm on Highway 301
Proud owner of a beat up pick up truck
And if you drive past Waffle House at 5am
He'll be parked out front
A southern
that's loom
Aye Hell yea
Surrounded by the spirits of my fam that's loom
Meditate meditate meditate meditate meditate meditate meditate yea
I'm getting
And Watch for them snares
Some my brothers
On the Highway to hell
Make it to heaven
If I'm taken the stairs
Marching and stepping haters
I Don't even
win
Throw the double v's up, I'm a veterannn
O...really I'm changing up my lanes, Flying by like a million
Miles per hour up in philly
Sun rising, I'm
face got dark scars
By the way, shoulda told me about your car door
Aye Imma still be driving that whip though
Riding at 5am on the highway with
the hell you think we livin?
How you think it feel to be a Simmons
Imagine Christmas and Thanksgiving
People want to know why I ain't on my brother's
of devotion
I live and die by the sword
You live your life inside a home until you die alone just hiding behind a keyboard
I'm a psychopath on a psycho path
Flippin' keys by the tons
Twenty five grand a week, fiends creep
No sleep nor do they eat
Bed around 6 feet deep
More goals to be achieved in
This hip hop
young man
Had been beaten by the police and the only way you know
You've got to be with the people and we live separated
We go in air-conditioned cars
Section 8, Smoke-A-Lot'll stay placed in Berlin
By the end of 9-8, hell yeah
Then I'll be straight
Fuck off a hundred G's and still got money up in
I say black lives matter, but ion really fuck with people
Smoke a wood all by myself and i get higher then a eagle
And this glock like a F.N but it
pain
And pleasure, in every single measure
You miss being kissed by this lyrical treasure
Enjoy it at your leisure, cause it's gonna please ya
Master
Ghetto boys
Die by twenty-five
Or catch a quick three-to-five
From a young white Canadian
Wannabe G’s perspective
Baby baby
Reminiscin’ back
To when
of the constant senseless killing
Innocent victims
Niggas out here taking lives
Like lil kids stealing
Niggas nowadays bitches
All in they feelings
Niggas out
Louisville cap on it's going down
I got my Louisville cap on yeah it's my crown
I represent the ville
Thats where I live where the jails a skyscraper
Prettiest
trolley problems on TGI Fridays
Or CGI highways
I'd rather feast my eyes on a Lightwave
Tree rings live I could peek inside an ice age
Even eden had a dry
Happy are those who live in your house, even singing your praise
Happy are those whose strength is in you
In whose heart are the highways to Zion
As they
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