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Yeah, yeah that's what it is... |
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(Hook) |
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We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top |
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We rise and fall, but the game don't stop |
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We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top |
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Real estate cars, and them big shiny rocks |
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We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top |
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Family first, fuck with that and get popped |
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We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top |
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We live and die, but the game don't stop |
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(8 Ball) |
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Fat boy killer man, cut like a guillotine |
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Off with a nigga head, my style ain't free |
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Bloody body parts, pop hearts and stop breathing |
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Nutty niggaz only need a reason, reach under the seat and |
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Grab the heat, and make that fire jump up out my window |
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I bet them bitches, won't be coming round here talking no mo' |
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Ay yo, dirty lyrics bring out evil spirits |
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I must be evil, wouldn't talk it if I didn't live it |
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Wouldn't live it if I couldn't take it, please believe it |
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Please believe, that if a nigga disrespect he bleeding |
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I put that on them little niggaz, at the crib I'm feeding |
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Do whatever, trying to get the shit that they be needing |
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Touch the streets, and get my feet muddy |
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For them dead presidents, pimp a hoe like Cuddy |
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Like Bubba Sparxxx we get ugly, remember that |
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For that bread niggaz willing to go, to hell and back |
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(Hook) |
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(Lil' Keke) |
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If your cash is mean, let me hear you scream and rush it |
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Hood rich fake ass niggaz, y'all gotta love it |
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Get mine, battle the streets and keep it locked |
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Loading and cocking glocks, jamming slowed down Pac |
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Twist it and make it pop, close it and open shop |
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Bottom straight to the top, smoking on that Cali crop |
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City that's do or die, kill you behind a lie |
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Open the pigeon coop, and let the street birds fly |
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Murder and racketeer, FED's won't disappear |
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Push it and hit the gear, pray for another year |
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Lifetime, and the click be rumbling |
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Raised in the hood mayn, where the heads be tumbling |
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Boys be stumbling, living in sadness |
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Broke as fuck, they can't shake the madness |
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A savage, plus I don't give a damn |
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Get rich and live it up, with the rest of the fam |
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(Hook) |
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(Kyleon) |
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Gotta rise to the top, cause the bottom too crowded |
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It's like crabs in a bucket, and they holding me down |
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That's why I'm on the block with the rocket, I'm holding a pound |
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Inside the booth spitting, he's controlling the sound |
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And we controlling the town, got the keys to the city |
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Rains trains or airplanes, I got the keys to the city |
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It's Killa, Ball and Ke we CMG |
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Custom Made Gangstaz, we CMG's |
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It don't take a set of binoculars, to see we G's |
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Got a eye for this do' nigga, so we see them G's |
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And I done finally made it, cause I'm sick with the rap |
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Spit lyrics like cold bro, I'm sick with the rap |
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When the glock start coughing, I'm sick with the strap |
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Behind money, I'd make your face stick to your lap |
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Gotta make it to the top bro, you can't deny my mail |
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Cause I rap so well, they had to put my teeth in jail it's Killa |
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(Hook) |
