Lyricist : Roderick Henderson/Gene Hixon/Vladislav Kukla
Composer : Roderick Henderson/Gene Hixon/Vladislav Kukla
[Intro]
(Al Geno on the track)
[Chrous]
Everytime this sh*t get gangsta, n*ggas run straight to the 'net
All that cappin' in your songs won't get your b*tch ass no respect
Playin' foul, might knock a n*gga off the court with this new TEC
Caught a cramp from chasin' opps 'cause my dumb ass f****t to stretch
Post outside your house first thing come out the door, gon' get it worse
Lil' bro ****ed up in the head, he tryna send shots at a hearse
Dependin' on how many Percs I'm on, will I gon' let 'em shoot up a church?
Then go lay back in my cell and smoke 'za out a Bible verse
[Verse]
My stepper Christian, 'fore we slide, he gotta read the Bible first
When it's smoke, we might kidnap your kids to hit you where it hurt
The block is hot and, b***h, I'm hot, boy I feel like lil' Turk
Stiff on a b***h like I'm a [?], my cleats don't leave the turf
Spent some thousands on my shoes, spent four hundred on my jeans
Spent five hundred on my shirt, spent two-fifty on my socks
Spent a hundred on my drawers, spent ten-fifty for this Glock
Ten at a time to whack 'em all, until they dead I n***r stop
Ooh, I just looked down at my wrist and seen my diamonds bussin'
When I come around, they barely talk 'cause money my discussion
I can't do no arguin' with no b***h, let her do all the fussin'
Better watch your mouth, she make me mad, put d**k on all her buddies
I'm in ATL with Lauren London, tryna get some cuddy
Twenty-one, but ain't got twenty dollars, boy, go get some money
I be hittin' her long off a Perc', I don't need honey
I just cut my hand and seen a fifty, b***h, I bleed money
I be outta town kickin' shit, I got Bruce Lee money
Thought he was a robber, heard a boom, ain't takin' nothin' from me
Hit her from the back, face in the pillow, she just keep cummin'
Soon as I blew up from out Mobile, seen the beef comin'
I was backseat, ridin' with that steel tryna bleek something
I'ma treat the stick like a keyboard when I delete something
Ahem, uh, uh, these dead niggas ****in' up my lungs
Might stop ****in' them project hoes, can't be puttin' my d**k in no bum
Uh, street n*gga out the slums, I used to survive off of crumbs
We was young and dumb, one thing focused on, redrum (Redrum)
Murder, that's ten bands (That's ten bands), double homicide, that's a twenty ball (Twenty ball)
Triple homicide, drop thirty-five, lil' bro whack all of y'all (All of y'all)
No, he ain't scared to slide, that boy gon' ride, I'm dyin' behind my dawg
Five percent the whip, he couldn't even see my face behind the fog
Know you see the eyes up on this foreign, look just like a frog (Like a frog)
Everytime this sh*t get gangsta, n*ggas run straight to the 'net
All that cappin' in your songs won't get your b*tch ass no respect
Playin' foul, might knock a n*gga off the court with this new TEC
Caught a cramp from chasin' opps 'cause my dumb ass f****t to stretch
Post outside your house first thing come out the door, gon' get it worse
Lil' bro ****ed up in the head he, tryna send shots at a hearse
Dependin' on how many Percs I'm on, will I gon' let 'em shoot up a church?
Then go lay back in my cell and smoke 'za out a Bible verse (Bible verse)
