MORE BRIX (feat. Rome Streetz, Chase Fetti & Kool G Rap)

Come up now!

That's all boy, I hear this!

Playin' all night, so I'm rockin' to you!

Back, back, back, back, back, when you are ready, all right, come on

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Don't be surprised you already knew the vibes

Louis shoes when I tried to guard the board

Judas is crucified though it's low blow was a tool that I had to utilize

Nashville knew me well for the black in your lifetime

Fucking the world's raw slime the game is my concubine

I push it in she creaming in the pussy squirt dollar signs

Body work sore for you still rock it like a large one

Fiench kiss the bags and muchos gracias, hmn

**** washed up slime and it's obvious

First they give you props and then they try to copy it

Square ass **** I aim blocks and knock the data out your floppy disc

Only fans pay to watch me shit stacking all you ****

Broke the whole breakdown that we sold zippers YKK or the corner connection to a picture and a snipper

I fuck freaks count Franklin's and eat Del Frisco dinners before rappers get a disco

The idea is my way the proof's in the bricks (more bricks)

(I got some bricks in the hood)

Y'all know me

C'mon!

More bricks than construction sites

I up my price, you **** suck at life

You don't do nothing right, I was polite

Here you go on the vice that had to up the pipe

I let that chicken stack, I'm pitching cracks

Like a fucking strike, I'm nothing nice

****, bunch of ice, look like I sprained some shit

I see double mattress, how I'm stacking with cocaine get flipped, I ain't get rich

When you sell a bundle, dog, that ain't no brick

You got that play, though, we make those ****

I paint your whip, just face it, bitch

You ain't on my level, it's the God's head

Get it in, it's soft white, all we sell is hard head (that's it)

Cool **** in my own bubble

Like a Moncler, you smell when that rock cook

You looking like Paul Gooden, all stiff

With them wide eyes, ****, my side lies

**** talking streets with a beef, I'm like five guys

Stump clips, you know drumsticks

I'm like Popeyes (krrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr)

You better duck when I'm shot

See, I did it my way, the proof's in the bricks

More bricks than you ever smoked

I've been outside, ****

15, I was selling cracks, I don't know what you **** was doing

Yeah, on that same mode as the last poet's last know it

Straight but got a pop, he feels he never bagged bogus

Cracked oak, that's where the lack of hope is

Saw a famous big shot, skidded wooden box with a batch of roses

Still at path chosen with cash to focus

My man dog brother died, both eyes closed from a bad dosage

Get shit handled, retaliation like fast posters

Make them regret the day they was born when the wrath approaches

I draw thousands, the roar arousing

Public housing, apartments converted in my parcel, the whore houses

Was dead smack with that money routers, my green flippin'

Fiends, liver, cockroaches all in and out the couches

Drum in the magazine well, I call it well-rounded

Rounds are leaving dumbfounded till he well-grounded

**** ran off with 12 ounces

Shell counting ever since, better stay surrounded with 12 ounces

Turn your eyes, turn your eyes from the devil

Turn from the devil

The devil is your eyes

Turn

Prrrrrrrrrrrr

It's a shame, it's a shame, the way they sniff and snore cocaine (it's a shame)

It's a shame that they see hell, we're all in their dreams, tell me why (why do they?)

I wonder why do they drink this liquor and wine (why do they?)

Why do they die?