Uh, I get up and I get to it.

Pick the soldier up, dress him up, then I spin through him.

See a lot of y'all bustin' moves we been doin'.

Let me put y'all on to some rules, some influence, starting at one.

Never trust no one begging to sell you info, because if so, they like decking.

Giving you the same work they gave to the bank tellers.

Make sure you check down.

They handing you a check back.

Number two, stay off the IG.

And never pay over 1K for an ID.

Keep your stuntin' low-key, a St.

Luke's IC.

You want an IV for thinking you YT?

Clown shit.

Number three, watch who you put on.

Cause sooner than you know, they'll be stealing your poop on.

Find out who your sauce and be giving them Groupons Before you know it, you'll be cut out like coupons

Number four, know you heard this before.

Never get high while you on that drive or your dope fiend soldier when they going inside.

Remember that you riding with a car full of eyes.

Number five, if your wifey a bank teller, never let her be the inside.

Okay, fella?

Because when they come back, they want more than they cheddar.

Just let her put you on the other ways.

It takes better.

Yes.

Number six.

This is some real shit.

Get your own printer.

Niggas be on they bullshit.

Have you on a chase for a face to pull six.

And by the time you get it, it won't be a good pick.

Number seven.

Always park blocks from the spot.

Make sure you out of sight just in case it get hot.

Number eight.

This the one I definitely hate.

Since they're your mans, feel they deserve more than take.

Gotta confront them before they backdoor on the cake.

Ain't saying nothing go through.

That's something you don't do.

Number nine.

Never have them wasting your time.

Don't even pick up their line if they ain't trying to grind.

Cause they gave you work, they prefer to even the pie.

Since you know how much in it, come hop in this truck, rent it.

It goes back to where it began, where people pretend, where reality end.

This social media shit, I had you going in the wind.

Them boys don't need to know where you go, what you spend.

Who you roll with?

How you getting most of your bents?

Who give you the work?

Where you get the pros with the pen?

From feet in the dirt to your Louisville's in the bins.

Preaching the church.

St.

Tom throwing his sin.

They praying you crack.

Like a pothole to a rim, shit is a fact Cops gon' know when to send them in to your door Quite sure before the PM, snatch up your bra Girl, wife, or the BM, we givin' awards Best player, coach or GM

We one on three, nigga.