Lyrics:
Pulled out on this black man in the black land
He used to sell white rocks and black cops used to riff
White cops ain't say shit, on the day shift they
ones
So I collect guns!
So step right through if you're down for the wrong move
Most crews are moved by my twelve gauge boom!
How can I love when I
And getting scorched by da sun
Don't go out like Cesar
Stabbed up by yo day ones
They tell us choice is free
And then fire me for vaccines
I'm just tryna
Cops got, guns!
They givin' out life like wontons
Run! If you ain't do shit, you it
That next felony, nigga, is like three zip
So, run! Hop fences,
thick, I'm the one you go and get
Don't look confused, the truth is so plain to see
Cause I'm the nigga that you sell-outs are ashamed to be
In every
Fabolous make bail before they identify the prints
Swing by a vince, In a buggy eye with tents
Sittin on nineteen's, Gun stash by the vents
Niggas is
a sun stroke, oh, you got heart?
I'll blow it out followed by blunt smoke
It's on, I'm up first, watch 'em every step like a upskirt
Like my trust
dice with they feet
Think they got the funk, that one fool got stomped out
'Cause he's a mark with a gun
The nosy bitch up the street called 9-1-1
dice with they feet
Think they got the funk, that one fool got stomped out
'Cause he's a mark with a gun
The nosy bitch up the street called 9-1-1
back and pull strings
Yeah yeah
Used to have that fuckin' title by name
Yeah yeah now that's nothin' but some
Fire to my flame, Yeah yeah
You ain't
to sell cocaine
And I was taught to buy guns so big when I go to the roof
I can aim and shoot down a plane
Infa-Red's my name but fuck all that
Fall back
a sac of drugs
At the block sewn up
Cause I want to pack a gun
Do you feel me?
World do ya hear me?
Catch a risin' star
Fuck the love
Niggas
And what are we to do when we don’t know the way
I don’t see any more heroes today all torn down by the same ones that built em up
I don’t own a gun yeah
nigga on the front steps
And gettin' money is the concept
By any means, and the belt where the gun kept
I let that whole clip ride, till ain't one left in
fish I prayed to the Gods
And it rained on us Lunch
Dame's wanna bang on the bus now
Beauty gave me brains till I bust
But I'm feelin way out of touch
cotton picking
So, how we gon' get up out the trap?
Guns or books, sell crack or rap
Street livin', hustle or hoops
Guns or books, get shot or shoot
crime
I'll break it down for you motherfuckers line by line
This is business economics in a nursery rhyme
She sells seashells on a seashore
But
stumble
I wanted Polo with some shell tops
I just wanted Polo and some shell tops
And I was out there tryna sell rocks
'Cause I wanted Polo and some
gonna
Him hear rounds from a Calico gun cocks
I was returnin' the favor
Why we even comparin' namе to name?
I been surpassed his and then somе
Who y'all
the usual
Path to success working within the record
Industry, nabbing that golden deal
And putting out the music they
Thought would sell he
Would go his own
Tell me what it feel like
What is real like
When you sell cocaine just to live life
When you did ten years in the pin
Right when you trapped in dark
the hardest verse that I ever recite
I'm in the studio with a gun in my neck it's all right
Surrounded by gangsters, I don't know how they got here
But I
bail before they identify the prints
Swing by a Vince, in a buggy eye with tents
Sitting on nineteen's, gun stash by the vents
Niggas is looking
rummaged were found guilty by the police
So won't you sell them the key?
What's your asking price tonight?
Locked in, locked out
Credit, debit, private
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