| Verse 1： | |
| [dmg] | |
| You wonder why, | |
| I hang with these thugs | |
| Whut, | |
| I'm from the hood | |
| Nigga, | |
| I gives a fuck (i gives a fuck) | |
| It's in my blood | |
| Since i was little i been hangin' with these niggas | |
| And till i die i gon remain with these niggas | |
| St. paul in | |
| The m-p-l-s, i hear you callin' | |
| I put it down yes | |
| Now chris rock were you at | |
| I heard you say some shit about some blacks | |
| Nigga, this been your ass back | |
| Come see the real deal | |
| Stay in the fields nigga | |
| These niggas will kill | |
| This ain't no cap-gun shots, nigga | |
| This a glock, pah, pah, | |
| It's death on your block | |
| Knock, knock | |
| Whut's up nigga? | |
| These sirenes start singing | |
| It's me and yuk with the l-g in the makin' | |
| It's stinkin', freakin' | |
| Bowlin' on the weekend | |
| Creepin, seekin' | |
| Me, till the currency | |
| Gimme stacks up on mo' stacks | |
| I'm dubble parked for the train | |
| Even your moms know my name | |
| I be the d into the m and the m into the g | |
| And i bring the b-o-m-b-? | |
| Nigga | |
| Chorus | |
| [yukmouth] | |
| It's in my blood | |
| Smokin sweets, drink 40's to the suds | |
| And fuckin wit these thugs, nigga | |
| That's in my blood | |
| You wonder why us niggas be hustelers | |
| And out there slingin' drugs, nigga | |
| That's in my blood | |
| That drug money, stuff that shit up under the rug | |
| And make that nigga bug, nigga | |
| It's in my blood | |
| Niggas like me turn niggas like you into hustelers | |
| Fuckin wit us, fuckin wit us! | |
| Verse 2: | |
| [yukmouth] | |
| It's in my veins | |
| Like a chain-reaction | |
| How it all happened | |
| Paps is slangin' crack in the mid 80's | |
| Back in the day when shit was crackin' | |
| Niggas pay 38 for a package | |
| Tightly rappin' | |
| For shippin' and handelin' taxes was added | |
| That's where the a-raps headin' | |
| Even when i sleep they in cavage | |
| Lavage shit | |
| Do automatics with scopes under my mattress | |
| With the dope and the drugmoney, | |
| Stuffin' that shit up under the rugmoney | |
| Thug hungry | |
| Takin' drugs only cause we love money | |
| I'm a nigga, he's a nigga, | |
| Would you like to be a nigga too | |
| Makin' big scrilla like these niggas do | |
| You probably be a drugdealer too | |
| Scan and tuned in to the boys in blue | |
| Listen for clues | |
| In the kitchen bakin up peruvian flake | |
| It takes | |
| 28 grams | |
| Multiplied by 36 zips to make | |
| A triple beam brake, a triple beam shake | |
| A hundred grams on the triple beam flake | |
| 2.2 pounds to be straight | |
| My niggas just flew in from ga | |
| Ready to buy 4 kilos | |
| Then drive slow back to youngstown ohio | |
| So fuck these rhymes | |
| Let me stick my dick in your ear, | |
| And fuck with your mind | |
| Nigga | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: | |
| [big mike] | |
| Niggas betray themselves as low key, | |
| Broken down and fabricated | |
| Easily ejaculated, table with and half way faded | |
| Ain't no wars cause they made it | |
| That type of bullshit is outdated | |
| But i played it like i laid it | |
| My partners have always said that | |
| It was set me up | |
| For life | |
| Money, clothes and hoes but road i chose was | |
| Nothin' nice | |
| Niggas know just what it's like to be hustelers | |
| Governors from strugglers | |
| Bitches lovin' us | |
| Blindly chasin' that life we lust | |
| I blush, | |
| Bottles, havin' thoughts and iring dreams | |
| Goin' down and roll fast | |
| Tryin' to get what my eyes have seen | |
| Fried of me, huh | |
| Nigga for a hand that got me through these eyes right to see | |
| But part not i was blind to the point, | |
| Not even i could see, or that i could be | |
| Obviously | |
| I wasn't meant for me this type of trickery | |
| Hit me with the type of mystery | |
| Lay it down like history | |
| With the intend of be myself and i | |
| Street desire, easila | |
| Piece of mind, i was least to find | |
| Some sassiness | |
| Hossisiless it gets to shit and praise to the farmer innercist | |
| Nobody was meant for it, it was deadly | |
| And i was discontent | |
| With the shit that life once sent | |
| Government depend, now most of my time is spent | |
| Escapin' what i love | |
| It's in my blood | |
| Chorus x2 |
| Verse 1: | |
| dmg | |
| You wonder why, | |
| I hang with these thugs | |
| Whut, | |
| I' m from the hood | |
| Nigga, | |
| I gives a fuck i gives a fuck | |
| It' s in my blood | |
| Since i was little i been hangin' with these niggas | |
| And till i die i gon remain with these niggas | |
| St. paul in | |
| The mpls, i hear you callin' | |
| I put it down yes | |
| Now chris rock were you at | |
| I heard you say some shit about some blacks | |
| Nigga, this been your ass back | |
| Come see the real deal | |
| Stay in the fields nigga | |
| These niggas will kill | |
| This ain' t no capgun shots, nigga | |
| This a glock, pah, pah, | |
| It' s death on your block | |
| Knock, knock | |
| Whut' s up nigga? | |
| These sirenes start singing | |
| It' s me and yuk with the lg in the makin' | |
| It' s stinkin', freakin' | |
| Bowlin' on the weekend | |
| Creepin, seekin' | |
| Me, till the currency | |
| Gimme stacks up on mo' stacks | |
| I' m dubble parked for the train | |
| Even your moms know my name | |
| I be the d into the m and the m into the g | |
| And i bring the bomb? | |
| Nigga | |
| Chorus | |
| yukmouth | |
| It' s in my blood | |
| Smokin sweets, drink 40' s to the suds | |
| And fuckin wit these thugs, nigga | |
| That' s in my blood | |
| You wonder why us niggas be hustelers | |
| And out there slingin' drugs, nigga | |
| That' s in my blood | |
| That drug money, stuff that shit up under the rug | |
| And make that nigga bug, nigga | |
| It' s in my blood | |
| Niggas like me turn niggas like you into hustelers | |
| Fuckin wit us, fuckin wit us! | |
| Verse 2: | |
| yukmouth | |
| It' s in my veins | |
| Like a chainreaction | |
| How it all happened | |
| Paps is slangin' crack in the mid 80' s | |
| Back in the day when shit was crackin' | |
| Niggas pay 38 for a package | |
| Tightly rappin' | |
| For shippin' and handelin' taxes was added | |
| That' s where the araps headin' | |
| Even when i sleep they in cavage | |
| Lavage shit | |
| Do automatics with scopes under my mattress | |
| With the dope and the drugmoney, | |
| Stuffin' that shit up under the rugmoney | |
| Thug hungry | |
| Takin' drugs only cause we love money | |
| I' m a nigga, he' s a nigga, | |
| Would you like to be a nigga too | |
| Makin' big scrilla like these niggas do | |
| You probably be a drugdealer too | |
| Scan and tuned in to the boys in blue | |
| Listen for clues | |
| In the kitchen bakin up peruvian flake | |
| It takes | |
| 28 grams | |
| Multiplied by 36 zips to make | |
| A triple beam brake, a triple beam shake | |
| A hundred grams on the triple beam flake | |
| 2. 2 pounds to be straight | |
| My niggas just flew in from ga | |
| Ready to buy 4 kilos | |
| Then drive slow back to youngstown ohio | |
| So fuck these rhymes | |
| Let me stick my dick in your ear, | |
| And fuck with your mind | |
| Nigga | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: | |
| big mike | |
| Niggas betray themselves as low key, | |
| Broken down and fabricated | |
| Easily ejaculated, table with and half way faded | |
| Ain' t no wars cause they made it | |
| That type of bullshit is outdated | |
| But i played it like i laid it | |
| My partners have always said that | |
| It was set me up | |
| For life | |
| Money, clothes and hoes but road i chose was | |
| Nothin' nice | |
| Niggas know just what it' s like to be hustelers | |
| Governors from strugglers | |
| Bitches lovin' us | |
| Blindly chasin' that life we lust | |
| I blush, | |
| Bottles, havin' thoughts and iring dreams | |
| Goin' down and roll fast | |
| Tryin' to get what my eyes have seen | |
| Fried of me, huh | |
| Nigga for a hand that got me through these eyes right to see | |
| But part not i was blind to the point, | |
| Not even i could see, or that i could be | |
| Obviously | |
| I wasn' t meant for me this type of trickery | |
| Hit me with the type of mystery | |
| Lay it down like history | |
| With the intend of be myself and i | |
| Street desire, easila | |
| Piece of mind, i was least to find | |
| Some sassiness | |
| Hossisiless it gets to shit and praise to the farmer innercist | |
| Nobody was meant for it, it was deadly | |
| And i was discontent | |
| With the shit that life once sent | |
| Government depend, now most of my time is spent | |
| Escapin' what i love | |
| It' s in my blood | |
| Chorus x2 |
| Verse 1: | |
| dmg | |
| You wonder why, | |
| I hang with these thugs | |
| Whut, | |
| I' m from the hood | |
| Nigga, | |
| I gives a fuck i gives a fuck | |
| It' s in my blood | |
| Since i was little i been hangin' with these niggas | |
| And till i die i gon remain with these niggas | |
| St. paul in | |
| The mpls, i hear you callin' | |
| I put it down yes | |
| Now chris rock were you at | |
| I heard you say some shit about some blacks | |
| Nigga, this been your ass back | |
| Come see the real deal | |
| Stay in the fields nigga | |
| These niggas will kill | |
| This ain' t no capgun shots, nigga | |
| This a glock, pah, pah, | |
| It' s death on your block | |
| Knock, knock | |
| Whut' s up nigga? | |
| These sirenes start singing | |
| It' s me and yuk with the lg in the makin' | |
| It' s stinkin', freakin' | |
| Bowlin' on the weekend | |
| Creepin, seekin' | |
| Me, till the currency | |
| Gimme stacks up on mo' stacks | |
| I' m dubble parked for the train | |
| Even your moms know my name | |
| I be the d into the m and the m into the g | |
| And i bring the bomb? | |
| Nigga | |
| Chorus | |
| yukmouth | |
| It' s in my blood | |
| Smokin sweets, drink 40' s to the suds | |
| And fuckin wit these thugs, nigga | |
| That' s in my blood | |
| You wonder why us niggas be hustelers | |
| And out there slingin' drugs, nigga | |
| That' s in my blood | |
| That drug money, stuff that shit up under the rug | |
| And make that nigga bug, nigga | |
| It' s in my blood | |
| Niggas like me turn niggas like you into hustelers | |
| Fuckin wit us, fuckin wit us! | |
| Verse 2: | |
| yukmouth | |
| It' s in my veins | |
| Like a chainreaction | |
| How it all happened | |
| Paps is slangin' crack in the mid 80' s | |
| Back in the day when shit was crackin' | |
| Niggas pay 38 for a package | |
| Tightly rappin' | |
| For shippin' and handelin' taxes was added | |
| That' s where the araps headin' | |
| Even when i sleep they in cavage | |
| Lavage shit | |
| Do automatics with scopes under my mattress | |
| With the dope and the drugmoney, | |
| Stuffin' that shit up under the rugmoney | |
| Thug hungry | |
| Takin' drugs only cause we love money | |
| I' m a nigga, he' s a nigga, | |
| Would you like to be a nigga too | |
| Makin' big scrilla like these niggas do | |
| You probably be a drugdealer too | |
| Scan and tuned in to the boys in blue | |
| Listen for clues | |
| In the kitchen bakin up peruvian flake | |
| It takes | |
| 28 grams | |
| Multiplied by 36 zips to make | |
| A triple beam brake, a triple beam shake | |
| A hundred grams on the triple beam flake | |
| 2. 2 pounds to be straight | |
| My niggas just flew in from ga | |
| Ready to buy 4 kilos | |
| Then drive slow back to youngstown ohio | |
| So fuck these rhymes | |
| Let me stick my dick in your ear, | |
| And fuck with your mind | |
| Nigga | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: | |
| big mike | |
| Niggas betray themselves as low key, | |
| Broken down and fabricated | |
| Easily ejaculated, table with and half way faded | |
| Ain' t no wars cause they made it | |
| That type of bullshit is outdated | |
| But i played it like i laid it | |
| My partners have always said that | |
| It was set me up | |
| For life | |
| Money, clothes and hoes but road i chose was | |
| Nothin' nice | |
| Niggas know just what it' s like to be hustelers | |
| Governors from strugglers | |
| Bitches lovin' us | |
| Blindly chasin' that life we lust | |
| I blush, | |
| Bottles, havin' thoughts and iring dreams | |
| Goin' down and roll fast | |
| Tryin' to get what my eyes have seen | |
| Fried of me, huh | |
| Nigga for a hand that got me through these eyes right to see | |
| But part not i was blind to the point, | |
| Not even i could see, or that i could be | |
| Obviously | |
| I wasn' t meant for me this type of trickery | |
| Hit me with the type of mystery | |
| Lay it down like history | |
| With the intend of be myself and i | |
| Street desire, easila | |
| Piece of mind, i was least to find | |
| Some sassiness | |
| Hossisiless it gets to shit and praise to the farmer innercist | |
| Nobody was meant for it, it was deadly | |
| And i was discontent | |
| With the shit that life once sent | |
| Government depend, now most of my time is spent | |
| Escapin' what i love | |
| It' s in my blood | |
| Chorus x2 |
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