I
Took the bread and the lamb spread little body got the shoddy to your body
So don't resist or you might miss Christmas. I choke guns. I make number runs. I get emcees to run drippin
When I throw my clip in the AK, I slay for far away. Everybody hits the DECK. My slow flows remarkable
P2 for Teyo. Now we smoke weed at 20 my time to slip the Ayo. That's crazy blunts. Nine L's. My watcher sells from the avenue to jail sells
Oh my god, I'm dropping shit like a pig shit. I hope you're listening. Sacking babies as they're listening.
Throw your better grab your pistol cuz if you shit still, I'm gonna make you fucking shit spill.
And I'm talking about fuck it. Why did I have to do it? So that's the fuck it. You got a good nigga buffing.
Cuz I got mosaics to pop your big pop up. Brickin' your old stuff.
That's all a fucking sendin' it.
Pop up. Bidin' off is the hardcore rap singer a.k.a. Crack. Spendin' bringin' any time.
Got no realist and killers, killers tied up in the nuts.
Ask your friends who's the illest.
Big L, Piggy and Pop.
Jumpin' on to this rap shit.
Like a rap game, heavy hitters.
Motherfuckers don't even know what to bring.
To be seen clean in the meme beam is everything's dream.
Big L's a cream thing with more green than spring steam.
Do no one create the smack or groopy. I'm known to make the hoochie.
Do I got stacks of loochie?
Absolute.
Harlem kids whose nose for felonies and selling keys.
Pushing 300 C's, GSPs and bumpin' trees.
These G's breeze while GT's be yellin' freeze.
We stash G's to keep a pocket full of centipedes.
Ain't no one set for the rest of our life.
Some clown that laid a drake.
Cause I had sex with his wife.
I stuck my tool in his brain.
Sit back before me get slain.
Niggas don't bitch chose me.
You know the rules for the game.
Got no realist and killers, killers tied up in the nuts.
Ask your friends who's the illest.
Big B L, Piggy and Pop.
Jumpin' on to this rap shit.
Like a rap game, heavy hitters.
Motherfuckers don't even know what to bring.
Why should I plead for ever thuggin' on the quest to get G's?
Runnin' from enemies ever since the days of the sea.
I'm under pressure, the stressor had me drinkin',
thinkin' niggas after me.
What's the paranoid to blame?
Wonder why the police don't want a team stackin' G's.
They ask if I'm playin', but I won't let them capture me.
I gotta thank the Lord for the weed and the nicotine.
I can't sleep, close my eyes and see wicked things.
I keep my pistol by my bedside.
One in the chamber, three on the fire with homicide.
My life's in danger, rollin' down to four five.
Beware, strangers, hands on my 45.
That's what the flame does.
I'm finally gone, but I'll never know until I'm gone.
From up another with a jealous mother fuckers roam.
Ask the weed, let that Hennessy be sweet,
before the penitentiary.
Take some vegan some pop and you mix them up in the pot.
Sprinkle them a little bit at the top.
What the fuck did you got?
Hey, hey, hey, hey,
the barrier of this rap skit.
Styles are mastered, many brothers nested up.
I tried to match it, but I'm still number one every day real.
Speak what I want, I don't care what y'all feel,
cause I'm my own master.
My pop told me be your own boss,
keep integrity at every cost.
And his home was Natchez, Mississippi.
Did it like miles and dizzy, now we gettin' busy.
Bridgin' the gap from the blues to jazz to rap.
The history of music on this track.
Born in the game, discovered my father's music like trench searchin' through boxes of purple rain.
But my Minneapolis was the bridge, home of the super kids.
I'm a well-known sub-doin' biz.
I might've ended up on the wrong side of the tracks.
But your pops wouldn't have pulled me back and said, yo, yo.
Yeah, I come from Mississippi.
I was young and running wild.
Hit it up in New York City.
New York, where I had my first job.
That's New York.
They ain't the boys, not them.
Yeah, all the boys call it now.
Yes, that's awesome.
You
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