| My man got rich doin' state time |
| Didn’t waste time, had 'em sniffin' like K9's |
| In the day room, all he did was watch dateline |
| Then heard through the grapevine, some cats wanna shank slime |
| Audi A8, can’t wait for that A9 |
| Rolly day-date, gold pearl and the face wind |
| When it come to bars, y’all sing like a Drake line |
| I don’t need it hard, when you bring, don’t break mine |
| Royal blue 'vette, white seats with blue heff’s |
| Tangerine rims, bent brim on that new Mets |
| Make the work slim, go in on that two-step |
| Three necklace on crew necks |
| I’m reckless like who next? Yes |
| Soon as we do flex, they can’t wait |
| Weed farms, we eatin' off grass like plant-based |
| 'Bout to hear more bloodshed than Cam'/Mase |
| Line of crackheads is what I call a fan-base |
| Omi on my back, beggin' me for the fam rate |
| Crooked but stayin' straight, since you and your mans fake |
| Y’all just get the nod, word to God, no handshakes |
| Put a strong stop to you niggas like lam' brakes |
| I don’t have a bit of that in me, I can’t hate |
| Type to don’t owe none, I look up to no one |
| Before a dude grow, under the wing put my own son |
| Then put my dude right under the big 4 and 0 one |
| The shogun |
| Mo' money mo' problems, rather the rich ones though |
| Being jealous and envious is a sickness so |
| Those that couldn’t be taught, I left back, watched my curriculum show |
| Millions of dollars, yeah, find all my fingerprints on those |
| Homie get ya seein', another birthday’s a bonus nigga |
| No need for sympathy, you can take your condolence wit' ya |
| Problems will squeeze your life out ya, karma’s a bonkers trip |
| That shit if it woulda came, would you recognize when the moment hit ya? |
| Rubber bands on dead people, for purple pan bricks |
| We picked the armor depending on what the circumstance is |
| Allergic to campus, my bitch do diamond and Birkin dances |
| I birthed all of your mans’s, baby burps and pampers |
| Uh, desert E on the lips of hypocrites |
| Touchin' down in 6's like I missed my kicks |
| Feather ruffler, shake down the families and witnesses |
| Never forget a number, I specialize in arithmetic |
| Uh, I’m like a belt collector, wit for whip |
| Bar for bar, realist nigga you’d sneak a picture with |
| Mutant when you see us, my son is a baby genius |
| Ever since a teen, it was visions of navy beamers |
| Niggas talkin' reckless, but did a 180, seen us |
| You know us for bringin' the steel in arenas like arenas |
| Take the smallest torch to the tomb, I’m an extremist |
| Rub me wrong, revenge is comin' full steam, my guillotine wish |
| Have evil stay the fuck from my eulogy |
| Cut the tail off you rat niggas for animal cruelty |
| No bail money and murders was a good afternoon for me |
| The nightmares come usually, I grew up on Krueger street |
| These flip floppers will throw shit on your name without losin' sleep |
| Don’t bring no kamikaze, can’t surround me, there’s too much heat |
| Sometimes you gotta lose yourself when zonin', the music’s deep |
| Ain’t no free rides to winnin' nigga, learn how to use your feet |
| Don’t trust nobody, I ain’t showin' love to anyone |
| Take it or leave it, this the realist song I ever sung |
| It ain’t a game here, anywhere I go a weapon’s brung |
| The neighbourhood’s a battleground, watch where you steppin' son |
| Go out and get it, if you waitin', it’ll never come |
| You gotta live life to the fullest, ain’t no second one |
| The hood’ll take it from you, in a New York second son |
| There ain’t a book on this, the fuck you want acceptance from? |