Lyrics:
Squad.
My nigg I pull up with fam.
You call h3r a bitch and all.
I call min3 a wif3.
Most of y'all niggs can snitch and I know.
Can't rid3 by my sid3
This
You think you know me
Out the trenches for you flabbergasted, fat fucks
It's your boy Denzel Curry in this bitch
And I'm chillin' with my nigga
can’t prove it
I be in the hood with the heat, gangbangin’
Them boys across the street be in the house
They never hangin’
I said nigga we playin’
Fuck is
We run from the Jakes, we finessing the bag
On our gambling shit, you can't stop us at that
A 10 dollar wager and it turned to a stack
But don't play
of you if you can't tell by this song
The spirit of the living God is makin' me strong
Get behind me (get behind me)
I know you thought you had me but
a hit this my type of shit
My fingers fucking hurting can’t stop typing shit
Fuck the phone from the dome so I ain’t writing shit
Doctor bring the beat
and that's okay
Fuck sleep pills, I need roast grills
Take shit off my mind, smoke real chill
Underground music, x9script
Never cross to the side this is X9
I
your local
Neighborness, for a ten mile radius
Well every ghetto craving this new anthem
My brain unstable and I'm just too handsome
I bang with
from that hoe to my wife
You think I give a fuck, like you don't know I'm livin' trife
Strife and struggle, bitches with pussy on the juggle
Little
the words I say because
(This type of shit, it happens every day) uh
(How you livin' Biggie Smalls?) I'm surrounded by criminals
Heavy rollers, even
'bout to pull no publicity stunt (go)
It's free Pooh and Foo' 'til it's backwards, you bastards
"Why you sign goons?" I don't fuck with these rappers
know, that's just how I used to fuck
With the big old butt
You think I ain't know? You
Ain't had to tell me, cuz
I appreaciate the love
But you know how
[ cool Moe Dee ] We are the Raiders
[ L.A. Sunshine ] Of the Lost Art (8x)
[ Treacherous Three ]
This is a funky expedition, a mission, I had
and that's okay
Fuck sleep pills, I need roast grills
Take shit off my mind, smoke real chill
Underground music, x9script
Never cross to the side this is X9
I
we get high and feel like we out of space
She keep looking back at it, we be grinding like jack rabbits
All she want is this pipe, I turn her into
green
Is when you get dissed by a kidnap magazine
I give a fuck about these mothafuckas
I'm doin' this jam to save my hip-hop brothers
Get your
the Rover
Then I chased the dream, got the cream
Out the hood by any means
Ya, some how, some way
We gotta make it out the hood some day
Can't lie, I
Frank Nitti?
I ran through your city and
Left with my boots shitty
Nobody gets looser than this producer
Coordinate tracks that's live
Three or four cars
to the store for some more baking soda
Yo, yo, yo, get your fuckin', yo this made of glass, man
Get your big Avias off my mom's table man
The fuck is wrong
Boeing
Tell my pilot I said get goin'
Yellowbone with me, skin glowin'
Of course, her friend joined
They do what I say they be ten-fourin'
And ain't
know why
It keeps growing in the same place
I can't reach it with my left or right hand
I wish it was on my face
It's four days old
And it
Blinded by me, you can't see a thing
Just call my name
`cause I'll hear you scream master Master
Just call my name
`cause I'll hear you scream master Master
Cleveland
[Layzie Bone]
I be the smoothest little nigga you can meet me
But nigga you fuck with me then I'm a fuck with you
Introduce you to this heat
like ten of me
No, statistically, I can't win every time
But you know the score prolly like ten to three
And them three times that I had to take
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