It was crack that I served from the benches
Killa Cam Purple Haze while we was servin' yay
I feel like Rico when he got at Mitch
They love you when you up, look how my phone ring consistentlyIf I ever go broke again, bet they won't bring a cent to me
Let's toast to my enemies, no, let's toast to my injurieTurned my negative to positive, I don't need no sympathy
Please pick a side or run from your boy, boyWho wanna die? My gun kill for joy, joy
I was in the trap, Draco by the blinds like Malcolm
Every time I drop a project, I just increase the violence with itNot stoppin' 'til the opps blood spillin' on my bootsIn the streets or on a beat, I can kill 'em in the booth
I'm the big homie, I just make a call, don't gotta lift up a finger at allI know some n****s that's behind the wall, did like a dime and leave with a scarN****s that's still gettin' money in prison, rock Cartier glasses, spinnin' the yard
I'm from the bottom, went straight to the top, I'm from the hood, I'm still on my blockI know some shooters that run in your spot, hit you with a shot, I seen it a lot
I'm straight from the bottomDropped out of school, never made it through college, I got in the game and I made a few commaI wasn't stoppin', this was before any deal, I was still still sellin' narcoticsSmokin' this chronic, it's givin' me solace, gun on my hip, ain't no question, I got it
I listen to n****s' albums like, "What the f*ck all the hype about?"Like, n***a, I can write one verse that'll wipe 'em out
I'm from where the kids don't get a new jacket in fallRoach in the cereal and every spoon black in the drawer
I listen to rappers' albums, literally mad about the lack of talentI could lyrically acid wash him, ask about me
My rhyme is a diamond inspired by pressure before itThere's a lesson in every blessin', never ignore this
And I ain't even get the backend yet from my next tour (Hah)Huh, that's what they so upset forThey broke, so they gon' stress more, I keep my gun on me, you left yours
Ain't it funny how we open laundromats to wash the money from the load?
My Spanish homie on the west, he think he Tony, when he sniff, he lose control
How you gangster? You ain't never do sh*tYou ain't never shoot sh*t, never been to jail, I could tell you a b*tch
Came from the bottom, from shovelin' sh*tNow it's thirty pointers in the bezel of my Oyster Perpetual wrist