Lyrics:
grab that
Momma ain't happy so I gotta do it right
Living by the neck
Living by the chain
This ain't nothing go in gang
Don't go spray stay in your lane
mail on the floor
I put some VVs in my teeths, they cost a band of some coke
I'ma send some BBs to your opps, and yeah, we want all the smoke
You
anyone quit quite like you do
Twin bruises on my shins
From where I kicked the back of the seat in
They meant what I went through for you
But now
Four door coupe, we in the back
Eyes glazed red but the windows all black
Shawty givin' me head, hold it in don't yak
On my Tom Brady shit Callin' me
jacked up
Yeah, I love this way of life
I can never get enough
I've got a blacked out Duramax
A 12 inch smokestack
Four 12's in the back
Poundin
missed me by an inch
Then it blasted in the pay phone
Then I jet to the west to get my bulletproof vest
From Madlib
A void rhyme entering my chest
Hendrix in this Industry
I'm a Pharaoh God bitch
And you already know
From that
Pyramid City
Aka
The SCO
It’s the 4-1-5
The main attraction
Frisco
Grab baby by the hand come on vibe with me
All in my closet trying to see what I’m a rock yes
All my woes drippy drippy looking like a sauce fest
Blessed
(Maybe in this song, you shouldn't start by saying)
Nigga, I said it, I know that you mad
I've emptied the clip over friendlier jabs
You mentioned
life, Styrofoam cups, no ice
Party 'fore we go inside
Never let 'em out my sight, they're right by my side
Them my ride-or-dies, them my ride-or-dies
of the city like fee-fi-fo
Creep slow in a '4, motherfuck Five-O
LA, here's to you
For being the kind of place a
Man can do his due
Out here the hippies skip
young nigga wanted J-Bos
Strike a pose, throwin' fours, and then we mob on the floor
Na, Na, Na hoe (hoe)
Hoe close that door, finna light up and smoke
grind is diminished by me and
Mine is the menace the preach
I'm findin my soul on this
Beat definin' my flow
And you know I fold any foe at
Defeat it's 4
Fernando Villalona
Puffing cheeba in the street
By the chimi corner
Tu ne tappa me, muthafuckas are sloppy
Captain of the rap, you talking to papi
Up in
Sci-fi
I'm about to murder this beat like a drive-by
10-minute rap, leave nothing in the archive
You niggas rap but really only part-time
I'm about
Yeah, bitch, I got weight like a boulder (woah-woah-woah)
On the west coast with no spokes (nah)
You said that you riding (you said)
You said you in
And maintain, and maintain
I smoke and maintain, cause it soothes my body
In my big body, cause I'm a big body
No sipping, just hipping like legit
got three/four spots in the city
It's soft on the east, hard on the west
Smoke on the south side y'all know the rest
32 O then it ain't no plan
No
wanna go back to your city beat
By a little teen, just a kid from the bay
West side what I'm repping today
Yes I hit the level of best five in the state
the game
[VERSE 4:]
Ridin' low
Layed back in the seat when I creep
That's just how I roll
With some fresh nice ones on my feet
That's it goes
And I'm tryin'
smoke without me
Swisser blunts or doobies, blazing with my homies
Swerving around the corner, fucking with bad bitches
On our way out to Cali, Six fours
talkin' 'bout Rolls Royces nigga, what else woe?
Dope dick, back seat, front seat
Since I came in the game, you niggas philosophies changed
J.T.
vibe ain’t nobody like me
Ima Swat baby from the 4 but I go by Thr33
Nothing Greater that 333
Nothing Greater than 333
shows,
dip 4's and pimp ho's while the indo blow
You know that west coast low mentality
Focused on reality but livin in a hole notha galaxy
We keep it
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