(La Música de Harry Fraud)
Yea... Life
Type s**t...
You need to have a driver for this
Type s**t you ride home too
****** too talkative
Chatty Cathy ass simps, I'm on this bossin' s**t
My homie just came home, he got a corner office in this
Empire, I constructed brick by brick, this rap hustling
Tennis shoes, t-shirts, lunchboxes, **** it
If it could be sold then lets do it,
If it could be sold we gon' move it
I got the driveway to prove it,
Crazy high, but I'm not stupid
Blood hound know where the loot is,
Bring my homies straight to it
My b*****s gettin' high to the music
My gangsta bros before me show me exactly how to do it
You only gon' get out it, whatever you put into it
So I go extra to make sure my s**t come with the leather
The sunroof, the carbon fiber, Alcantara whatever
Navigation, blue tooth, all kind of s**t I never use
Sittin' in that skyline, the style of a stockbroker
Storytellin' **** slanging pot smoker
Revolutionary, rollin Chevy till I fall over
Told em, bury me a G and let my momma have the cheese
Though I'll never die cause the music livin' in the streets
That's all that matter to me
Cause this other s**t ain't real,
Them hoes just ******' because of that deal
These ****** livin' life with you
Until they just get jealous and you get killed
I'm just ridin',smokin',prayin'
That the lord keep them away,
And we keep gettin' this money
Cause we legends in the makin', I'm sayin', life