all state, ya all fake Just got paid but fuck it, I want some more cake Ya faith, in my hand Now ya nervous man and drive my brains quick fast at ya service My
Cut the music up, please Yeah, I should never leave hip-hop Controlled by my two hands, they go tik-tok Around the clock, yes, it's my time, my throne
's my ropas, that's my nephew, That's my weeples, that's my nizzle Please believe me Go fa sheezy Off the hizzle Do ya thizzle Wit my niggas Rod and
that shit if you got a blunt then roll that shit wait a minute bitch, fold that shit whistle with, the hata next door on the side ima ride on my ho like
My n-ggas high enough to swaing from the ceiling Ink from the pen spilling on my notebook Filled with dreams, this is my whole book Still the screams from girls shot and killed fill my
now holla cry pride When the opposition forces came to take him back BACK (Always gonna be hounded fella, by the police) Oh-me-oh-me-oh-my, we don't
at God, "Man why'd you had to take my folks?" Hope to see freddy G, Yusef G, love my G, Rolly G Police watch me smoke my weed and count my G's Got a
it twice Yellow stones all in my shit, yellow bones all on my dick Honeycomb, I call my crib, money long that's on my kids I rock P to my Uncle Chad,
wit the blood on my sleeve Gave that nigga one offer he could take or he leave But it?s a body in the trunk son it?s getting scary What if police pull
spot Lord My chick is buggin', she trippin' My dick keep slippin' out my boxer drawers Now I'm caught up in the drug sting Niggas is callin' my horn, police
like to thank you You are the 77th caller You know you just won a pair of Theodore drawers and all that How do you feel about that? (Oh my God, that is
we eat To teach, shake my head in disbelief 41 shots, a young brotha deceased Gunned down by police, is there no justice, no peace? So fuck the police
my hood like Christ with my apostles Thief in the night, niggas watch my light reflect through my ice The flame in my eyes, Gabriel's blood on my wings
dead In a matter of seconds and inches The door was hanging off the hinges (crash) Her eyes met the metal She screamed Oh my God Out the back room the
and Jazzy Phae cuttin' on some Southern shortys I'ma be Southern 'til the day I go From my head to my belly to my knees to my toes I'm a Southern ass
to God I hope we fuckin' die together Just me and my bitch Just me and my bitch Just me and my bitch She helped me plan out my robberies on my enemies
pay my taxes Oh, make me wanna holler And throw up both my hands Yea, it makes me wanna holler And throw up both my hands Crime is increasing Trigger happy policing