Lyrics:
joking
If I'm N9ne I keep that pistol smoking
By design to find your prime time if their eyes open
Sign of the times ain't dependent on the rhymes
with pistols in streets
Is way to normal to me
Losing they lives in that shit
If we all die
Who's gonna make and shit
Playing everyone like a skit
Mixed
the squad did it (squad, squad, squad, ayy)
One came with two clips, it came wit it (came wit it, ayy)
Old school got that leanin', top missing (top, top,
I need you to hold on, Kentrell
You gotta carry on and don't fail
They know that I get it on by myself
How it feel? They know that I don't care
Shell casings out my 9 flyin’
Through your mama kitchen
Paper we stack it, pistols we pack it
You fuck around
We’ll blow your heart out the
Back of your
government cheese
Spray on Suzuki's, eleven-hundred CC's
No plate on the back, straight squeezin' the MAC
In the hood they identify niggas by they cars
So
[master p]
You know what?
This ghetto got me so crazy
My life, it almost feel like I'm a phone call or ring away from death
Ain't this fucked up
Big
Whatcha know, bout making dough?
Always movin fast, yeah, my haters always move slow
On the go, every time you hear the phone
Whatcha know, bout
at least a grand
Gold on my neck, my pistols close at hand
I'm a self-made monster of the city streets
Remotely controlled by hard hip-hop beats
But just
clutching
This pistol packin not for fashion bitch I'm gone buss it
The homies said u ain't did no skit but you a store runner
I make opps have hot winters n
move with precision
Since 16 I had dreams of growing up to be a killer
Skit 2
Nah like back in 2010, I was rolling a blunt on my auntie back porch
he say when you done cussin his by"
you aint thuggin you lie bitch
brave till we die bitch
[Verse 2c: Horse]
??? a nigga that would kill something
you know that sHit's real
Pistol grip pump on my lap all times
I used to drive a Hyundai
With the dimes inside
Now drive by is by the lost
THat kill bay
(Skit Anthony H. Forté aka Rappin' 4-Tay)
No Limit Studios. What's up?
Who dis is? Who dis is?
Nigga this Rappin 4 tay. Who is this?
Uh dis P!
P?
a pool
Got a hot ass Uzi, cooling, keep that shit cool
In the court room represented by Jews
Hundred thousand, two hundred, working moves
When you got
the rice-a-roni
Take her out look like she lonely
I'm gonna candle, light the moment
I'm a fan I like the pussy
She told him my phone was roamin'
She be moaning
shorty had two hundred rocks
Palmed in his hand I'm right there sittin right by the mailbox
Two niggas with me posted playing music off his phone
Shorty
to go
I'm gone, got two spots out of town
And probably won't answer my phone
If you not copping pounds
Be careful catching plays, make sure you not
Tycoonin' and timin', strivin' and grindin' to get my money on
Rappin' and rhymin', tryin' to go diamond and talkin' on my phone
With the music slappin',
& I don't fuck with niggas who ain't taking care of their seeds
G Shit
(Skit 1) - [2Pac Shakur]
Everything I ever say is coming from the heart
And if
chu' waitin on" ?
"Hey let me use that other phone"
"Fuck that, she got skit to hit
I'm'a call that ho while she at home"
"Hello" ??
"What's the bidness
wrong, I'm blowin' it
You tryna plot and we knowin' it (knowin' it)
Throw away, I shoot the pistol then throw it (throw it)
My niggas shoot without
me while I'm sleepin, two to the head
While I'm in bed, leakin blood on my satin sheets
Is there a heaven for a baller? I'm gettin suspicious
chu' waitin on" ?
"Hey let me use that other phone"
"Fuck that, she got skit to hit
I'm'a call that ho while she at home"
"Hello" ??
"What's the bidness
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