Roxycontin (feat. Westside Gunn, Keisha Plum & Tiona Deniece)

Love, live life, forever our mood Told Con these niggas shark food (ah) Three bricks on the backseat Ridin' four deep, that's a carpool (skrrt) Speedin' in it, let the car cruise Put me 50 Cent on them Ja Rules (ah) Prices goin' up in the city, twenty-six fifty for a jar of blues Twelve, twelves and them lotto packs, same size as a bottle cap Feds followin' my private page Think I'm dumb enough to hit the follow back (follow back) Run this shit to the graveyard, I was tryna pull a triple double Had a spot off of Strathmore Behind the new wave off of Sixth and Hubbell (ah) Lost Joey, left a nigga puzzled All it take is one, caught him with a couple Back then, used to seem like All a nigga used to do was get in trouble Got brodie caught up in the shuffle Hood took him under, caught up in the hustle Fascinated by the street life Got tired of seein' my niggas struggle Now we hoppin' out of space shuttles 187 to designer fashion (skrrt) Had to round 'em up in a huddle Put a play together like I'm John Madden (ah) Line lookin' like Soul Train, flame burnin' off auntie eyelashes So tied up in the dope game A nigga couldn't even see the time passin' Where we at with it? We wasn't even supposed to be here (be here) Fancy cars with the chandeliers (skrrt, with the chandeliers) Became ferocious in the dope spot (ah, dope spot) Gun shots make me Comfortable (brr, brr, make me comfortable, brr) We wasn't even supposed to be here (be here) Fancy cars with the chandeliers (skrrt, with the chandeliers) Became ferocious in the dope spot (ah, dope spot) Gun shots make me Comfortable (brr, brr, make me comfortable, ah) Gun shots make me comfortable (make me comfortable) Ayo, fuck y'all niggas I don't give a fuck about none of these niggas Your life is meaningless Diamond chokers, snakeskin minidress Never confess Death is a reminder to the living Grief is a gift that keeps on giving All the niggas we done lost This street shit came at a cost Buffalo soldier, fully loaded clips Dead bodies, duffle bags full of counterfeits Stick to the script or I'll remind you Your life is meaningless So very unfruitful Chris Salta By fashion rip