| Bricks in the fender bender
|
| Jump out the Sprinter and jump in the rental
|
| They think they with us
|
| Dope man with the bricks, nigga, not a pretender
|
| Slide up in a Bentley Continental
|
| Hood nigga, can’t move without my pistol
|
| Hungry, nigga, eat the chicken to the gristle
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| Trap nigga stay sacked like the crystals
|
| Can’t help it, I grew up in the slum
|
| Everybody strapped up, Vietnam
|
| We got the choppers and bombs
|
| I answer my door with my gun
|
| I grew up by roaches and bums
|
| Got a migo on the way with a ton
|
| I smoke so much cookies, so pray for my lungs
|
| I’m whipping them chickens, I’m breaking my arm
|
| They call me Pablo, I be working the water
|
| Came from the mud and the dirt and the slum
|
| My ministry sack can’t stay in the mall
|
| I’m trapping, trying to get the Biggie ball
|
| I’m serving the junkies, they going numb
|
| Trap house bunking, it be doing dumb
|
| Got a 80 my stash in my Avalon
|
| I remember serving at the marathon
|
| Chicken niggas, serving them at the back of the mall
|
| Got too much money, put a stash in the wall
|
| Bricks one pound, well, we handing it all
|
| Bust it down, wipe the candle with Lysol
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| Pack on me that’ll cut your lights off
|
| The coco is the only thing around me soft
|
| Got your bitch with my
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| I go stupid dumb like a retard
|
| Never had shit, with the bands on each card
|
| Bricks in the fender bender
|
| Jump out the Sprinter and jump in the rental
|
| They think they with us
|
| Dope man with the bricks, nigga, not a pretender
|
| Slide up in a Bentley Continental
|
| Hood nigga, can’t move without my pistol
|
| Hungry, nigga, eat the chicken to the gristle
|
| Trap nigga stay sacked like the crystals
|
| Can’t help it, I grew up in the slum
|
| Everybody strapped up, Vietnam
|
| We got the choppers and bombs
|
| I answer my door with my gun
|
| I grew up, I rode to the bond
|
| Got a migo on the way with a ton
|
| I smoke so much cookies, so pray for my lungs
|
| I’m whipping them chickens, I’m breaking my arm
|
| Hood nigga, know I move with the strap
|
| I grew up with the bombs and the racks
|
| On 1'5 we love cooking crack
|
| Or how about the sprint of your bitch, 'bout to rip her
|
| Can’t come to my hood if you’re a pretender
|
| I got them bricks in the fender bender, I ain’t no beginner
|
| Eat from the slums like the chicken, the gristle
|
| Fuck that you say that you miss her
|
| Flipping the patties, they talking 'bout crystal
|
| With Givenchy, the Balmain
|
| Started from nothing in the hood, worked for nic
|
| Ice, ice, I whip it up different
|
| Snipers on top of the roof of the building
|
| Beat it on the block, they say I’ll make a killing
|
| MONY POWR RSPT world, if it ain’t, then a nigga kill it
|
| Dumping that rack, make your bitch drop the ceiling
|
| I’m rich off them drugs, I’ve been getting it
|
| Bricks in the fender bender
|
| Jump out the Sprinter and jump in the rental
|
| They think they with us
|
| Dope man with the bricks, nigga, not a pretender
|
| Slide up in a Bentley Continental
|
| Hood nigga, can’t move without my pistol
|
| Hungry, nigga, eat the chicken to the gristle
|
| Trap nigga stay sacked like the crystals
|
| Can’t help it, I grew up in the slum
|
| Everybody strapped up, Vietnam
|
| We got the choppers and bombs
|
| I answer my door with my gun
|
| I grew up, I rode to the bond
|
| Got a migo on the way with a ton
|
| I smoke so much cookies, so pray for my lungs
|
| I’m whipping them chickens, I’m breaking my arm |