Lyrics:
not talk wit ya bro
Hate the pigs and the po', I'ma chokehold that motherfucker Trump
Throwin' rocks, throwing stones at your home
Get too close, I'ma
to it (Facts)
Go and ask Mr. Tracy yeah I really do it
Stacking up them chairs after lunch in 5th grade (Morningside)
Young kid bout the work, yeah I got
I wake up in the morning give a fuck about a bitch
Rather get a buck up out a zip shorty buggin give me wig
Gear match colors with the whip
Steer
Slowly I turn, step by step
Through the backwindow, I crept
Silent as a mouse on a set
While everybody in the house slept,
I disconnect the phones
Yeah I'm still a kid at heart
And I didn't grow apart
From that 4 year old Asian kid at Walmart
Lost in the aisle looking for mama's cart
Little lost
Cause I got know I'm finna die soon
Lil jeeps all around the line block
Watch them try to phase me
Cause I finna get a nice truck
Real steel fucking in
lie to me? (Come, let's ride)
Wrist slick and my shit too quick, better keep it forty-five so the pigs don't trip
Pull up with the pistol grip, flew
Standing at the pay phone about to make a call
I had a vision it was me on the other end
Telling you come by and then you walked in
I touched you gently
somewhere in Abu Dhabi
With Arabians G5'in', and with my posse
It's outrages, on that good Jamaican
That's right I'm too faded, you're two shaded
I'm too
Two hundred streams in a day, that was all electronic
I killed five in a day
You could have thought it's Pentatonix, oh (Ooh), shit
Ain't nobody want
Yo, Phife, you doing a remix or what?
Uh huh
Yeah
Ay yo, Bus', let me get a backwood, nigga
Ha ha, yo
Phife Dawg is in the buildin' (uh huh)
Everyone gets in line
As the angels fall, I rise
I watch you start to cry
As you watch your life go by
Send the five-o, send the five-o
Send
rockets
Old white cats run the dogs out the park
And all these pigs wearing blue can't keep the hammer off the spark
You ain't gonna get too far
(Yo honey
I want the bacon...but the whole pig is beyond me. Modern streets rules these people go by...I don't agree. Suicide attempt trying to get street
her a letter by my Uncle Thud
And I rode away on the Tennessee Stud
One day I was riding in a beautiful land
I run smack into an Indian band
pigs harassing us every day man
The other day Mr. Buddha had this plan
To get grands off the man so our whole crew could expand
They all wanted me
this bitch Carrie
Blowjobs led to the pussy
Pop and lock it funny business in the back seat
Dad, Mom got you good, commandeered by the love
Booty clap
over
Get up out my face
Tell dawg just get up out my face
Surviving by my lonesome
How I concentrate
These Pigs be wilding nowadays
Get shot to stand
She left a letter on the table
Said she'd be home by five
Smell of old coffee lingers on my mind
I won't wait to hear those footsteps
Climb those
niggas get tried, survivable, nobody liable,
I got caught by 5-0, grandmama came to court wit her bible,
But when the judge hit the gavel, too far from
jumps out, my boys move like the mob,
Mans been mashing up beats, so I’ll have a few bangers by the end of this summer,
Life on road gets peak, so I got
before you get sized up (tied up)
Play no game, speakin on my name you catch a clip full
From close range, diggin in your pocket, take the loose change
seven, five, six, seven, eight, two, three, six, four, five, nine, seven, two
That's my ex debit carts you better run it up and fuck it up
Her CVV two,
dark
Ain no other white guy doin drive bys on a golf cart
And fuck oli f im bout to give u alex kelly
Tryna surmise how many pocket knives i could fit in
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