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Produced by: Thelonious Martin |
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<Intro> |
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Yeah, yeah |
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Woohoo |
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Most incredible |
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Yes |
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Young |
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Yeah |
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Woohoo |
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<Verse 1> |
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****** do the tough guy thing, but the streets know |
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Then they tryna front on my city like we ain't cooking **** |
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Murders on the tv screens, what's it good for? |
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Price tag on my back, what's it hitting for? |
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Murder rate rising *****, over multiplying digits |
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Thought that was yo mans until he went and testified against you |
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All my ****** co-defendants, all my b*****s independent |
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Realest ***** of the century, whip sitting on twenty inches |
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Had to get it from the trenches, give it to my home, ***** |
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How you sending statements to the States, it be your own ****** |
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Headshots took off, seats Grey Poupon from jawns that I pooped on |
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I splash, I don't sing songs, Pimpstro |
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Hit 'em with the pole and make the bed rock |
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Pill pop, hit 'em with the soda, make it lead lock |
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Headshot, I remember we was kicking verses |
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Used to dream of rocking stages, *****, we was stealing purses |
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Yung Purple |
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<Break> |
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Now I was talking to my mother one day and she told me |
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"Boy there are two kinds of people in this world: |
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The type of people that look, and the type of people that see |
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Now everybody that sees is looking, but you can't see without looking |
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But everybody that looks can't see |
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And you gotta see, 'cause you gotta see the plays |
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You gotta make the plays boy, you gotta make the plays well |
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You gotta make the plays 'cause the plays ain't gon' make themselves |
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<Verse 2> |
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Feets with the Ziploc bags, I got the stash spot |
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The fiend for the shoe box cash, I picked the padlock |
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And I fronted your mans that was the past opp |
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The click blast in front of your mans, you ****** mascots |
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Murder was the mindstate, boosting up the crime rate |
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You ain't getting money unless you see that s**t in five states |
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Crack kills, crime pays, I'm getting to it nine ways |
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I stacking all my hundreds 'till they taller than Le- |
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