It's B .G. Weave with all the slick talk. Beef get to sizzlin' and I'm lettin' my fifth

spark. You wavin' white flags while I'm leavin' your strip chalk. Throw your brain out so

you just lost to your street smart. I tried to tell you I'm familiar with the gang.

Officially, you lay down right where you was standin'. I'm down to swerve and pop glocks.

Empty out the clip, reload, and pop some more shots. But Kyle told me to bit back. Lookin'

good for home team. Relax and sip on a bitch pack. Buck the hammers now with the kickback.

Get this money now and we gon' scheme on the get back. So breathe B .G. and chip on your

toes. I feel the gum. I start throwin' shots like free throws.

Niggas throw their bullshit the way they squeeze it.

Back to the eight with a full clip. These streets, they ain't needin'.

On the radio, screamin' like Chupacabra.

Till the bullets feel the picnic breeze. This thing ain't about recidivism.

Been ridin' over turfin'. Now a nigga's turfin'.

Genes still purposin'. Still pushin' person.

Purpose is different now. Do it for the fuck of it.

Glass top all class. Work for the truck of it.

Donated that to the goons. Young niggas graduated early.

Say it's far from June. You know a star ain't far from the moon.

You mention bundles tappin' they veins. I'm rappin' they spoons.

But I ain't tryin' to give them a fix. Nigga, I'm gettin' my usher.

I'm tryin' to get in the mix. The pot -dirty shit's gettin' your mix.

My nigga's still block -worthy. Hope they gettin' the flip.

I told him that I'm an athlete's ball. And my costume's a millionaire.

If it's life, it's a masquerade ball.

I said I was gettin' it since I was J. Cole.

And now a nigga's kitty ain't tall.

Niggas throw their bullshit the way they squeeze it.

Stuntin' till they hit the full clips. They squeeze, they ain't needin'.

On the radio, spinnin' like Tupac. Talkin' bout how they ridin'.

Till the bullets penetrate they brain. They sting, they apologizin'.

Since when you fellas addicted to the street life?

There's a school shit that has to skip it all.

We be grindin', goin' to the groups.

I was a kid when the C's died.

I was shootin' bullets so I was drippin' when you see the light.

Poopin' bitches, talkin' shit so I don't be dicey.

Movin' britches, tryin' to get it so I was G -type.

Truth is, since a kid I was a G -type.

Salute my niggas, I'm a prisoner, don't appreciate this.

One day they changed the stand.

I fled the chain with Jims.

And I got drunk, got cars.

We rollin' pipes, lightin' hot bars.

I'm blowin' life like a rock star.

I'm blowin' fire at the top bars.

The glowin' lights of the cop cars.

I see the media in my area.

But don't worry cause we know the procedures.

Spray the O's, the M's, play the smoke and throw the weed out.