Lyrics:
Advocated by the few who do live it
Bloomberg, make a nigga cop the Mossberg
Shorty ain't a shorty, he a Shooter like Wahlberg
Old man told me, don't be,
it ain't cool?
It's not hot
That when I'm blockin' your phone number
You call me from over your best friend's house
And it's not hot
That I
I leave the game on snooze, yall got like ten more minutes
Rap's SEC, I'm getting all up in your business
By my third album I'll be a triple crown
feat. Preacher Earl, Melo T, Bass Blaster, Asu, Guru
[ Greg Nice ]
Check it out, check it out
I got my whole crew in the house
and we gon' turn
That old picture with my arm around you
Tore it to pieces this morning at two
Score one for me
I took your portrait off the living room wall
Then
touched by the pair
Runnin they mouth with only one to the ground
I blow my shit cause I can back it up
Fuck poppin the trunk
Let's throw some hands up
Now
I'm from where your partner cut your head off All behind this bread dog
Niggas, this shit hard as fuck Ridin' through the hood
Blicky on my arm rest
baby
look at it,
this is mondi's baby
one day this is gonna be his.
1st chorus:
I got a dream
to move outta mama's house,
get me a crib and a new benz
I've been around so long
Busy as an escalator in a crowded mall (uh-huh)
It's like, every year I realize my house too small
Get paid, upgrade, two
case
I do my dirt by myself
Round get erased
You get down bad with me round
I'ma spray you down like a roach in tha project
Either get it in your dome,
lies when I'm around
I'm crowded by the thoughts that sprout
But all that bad energy tryna get me gone
In person I'm no good, with my words I put it in
Starkaroni probably fucked your aunt Mabel
In the stash house owned by El Patrón
Big friends in high places, always flyin' outta zones
Big banks in Sweden,
I despise your killing, and raping
You're despicable
Are you, my judge?
It's just you should be punished
I'm going to chop off your arm, so
even want me around
As I go back to spirit town
So I could rest longer before I
Come back down the chute again
In the near future when
Mom and pops could
it ain't cool?
It's not hot
That when I'm blockin' your phone number
You call me from over your best friend's house
And it's not hot
That I
always feel great
They’de rather sleep on my city wanna throw us away
EL Newing going live I upstarted the place
I don’t need no help I got money to chase
to the cut, do not strut against the grain, so
Going from in to out has made me sane
I played the waiting game inside that crowded prison, 'til the crowd became
gettin' by
Yeah I'm drunk, I'm high, damn near gettin' by
Dear hater, a playa is definitely in your radar
My bitch goes to work, she fucks me on her
go
Throw your fingers up
That's just the thug in me girl, you know
Peep out all my homies, y'know, it's like
I know you've been searchin' for
on the floor cause
You live by the sword you die by the sword
You live by your word you die by some more
If you play the game you've got to live with the score
react like a wildebeest and
Throw salt inside your wound your
Just diabetes to me
Ain't shit sweet with these hotels homie
That crip shit got my uncle’s
those heavy bundles we carrying
Yo analyze my many live niggas cramming it
We throw a three pointer, while y'all niggas throwing javelins
Sweating your
rooms in the house she'd be the balcony
Make me see far with a mouth like that
All my senses get crossed when you cross behind by back
With your arms
We wasn't supposed to make it past twenty-five
Joke's on you, we still alive
Throw your hands up in the sky and say
"We don't care what people say"
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