Last Day Out

(Marc Boomin) What's. up, Marc Boomin, hmm? You know what's up, you know? This my last day out, you know what I'm sayin'? I'm, I'ma go 'head kick it with y'all, show you how I'm livin' right quick Though I'll be right back, though That shit ain't shit (Boomin need extras) This my last day out, I'm finna jump fresh Pull a hundred K out, go to the set It'll be God, if I find a pint of Hi-Tech Gotta go out with a bang on my last sip Still got BMI checks, I ain't cash yet YouTube checks rollin' in, I ain't even check I wasn't paranoid at all, I ain't even sweat Twenty racks on the floor right now, I'ma need that Three years and eight months, I'll be right back Quarter million put up, I could sleep like that But I'm really nervous, though, I can't even cap I just bought my second crib and BM got the 'Lac Probably finna sell my 550, snatch off the wrap I can make a hundred racks quick, I just gotta rap I know I'm out on fed bond, but I got a strap I got too many chains on, I ain't tryna scrap Dick her down off a Perc', made her wobble back I think I need to go to church, whеre my mama at? Gotta spend some timе with my granny, where Big Mama at? I should bring her to the studio to watch me rap Your grandbaby doin' good, just made another hundred My mama lost me to the state, me and my lil' brother Baby Ghost, I told you to chill, we gotta get some money Just think about when mama used to make us split a hundred We gon' be straight, though, I feel it in my stomach I dicked her down, bitch say she feel it in her stomach I might turn myself in in a Prada jumper Just know when I get out, a helicopter comin' Man, them bitches hit your baby with conspiracy Took the blame for a phone call, it wasn't really me Them bitches grabbed, me, Ty, A, Lee, and my nigga C Talkin' 'bout the fuckin' City Boys, are you kiddin' me? I don't even know them niggas in my paperwork And I ain't sayin' nobody snitchin', unless I see the paper first Yeah, I knocked the bitch out, but I maced her first 'Member stuntin' at the gas station tryna take a purse Now I'm freestylin', drinkin' cough syrup, takin' Percs Yeah, I'll post your mixtape, you gotta pay me first I know my fans probably mad I gotta leave 'em But I'ma still drop heat, y'all gotta stream it Even though it's gon' be a while 'fore y'all see me I'm comin' back ten times harder, guarantee it What kind of diamonds in your chain? I can't see 'em I got some Cookie loads 'round, they eighteen-ish Plea agreement came in, I ain't read it Just give me all the time y'all want to, 'cause I ain't see shit Just 'cause he got thirty months don't mean he snitched If you ain't see the evidence, then you can eat dick Forty-four months seem long, but it's gon' be quick I might not even call a bitch 'til week six Can't be mad, 'cause I signed up for this street shit Got it out the mud, I do not accept free shit Y'all gon' miss me, though? Man, they're lyin' if they say Da Yung OG ain't put the city on When you locked up, they'll treat you like you dead and gone Little do they know I'm comin' home to a letter, bro Like an M or somethin' And my bitch textin' me like the dinner done Man, the opps cliqued up, I bought a bigger gun Seventeen-five just to get the kitchen done Bullets in the 308 look like a little thumb Alright, I got so much sauce on me like a chicken nugget Dior B22s off the prison jumper I'ma be gone for a minute, but my niggas comin' My niggas comin' harder than ever (than ever) Yeah, my niggas finna go hard Ghetto Boyz, bitch, on the yard, I'ma bogard Probably got fifty, sixty racks in my Goyard Nigga, you do not own a crib, you ain't- How the fuck you own a crib, you stuntin' an AP, you ain't got no yard? Ay, I'll be right back, though, look Ghetto Boyz in this bitch, nigga, free the whole ghetto Free C, free A, free Ri, free T, you know what I'm sayin' My nigga Peezy back, Mike gon' hold this shit down Louie gon' hold this shit down I got the Coochie, Man Nigga, my best friends are fuckin' talented entertainment Y'all gotta, ay, y'all gotta deal with us0 Nigga, even when I'm gone, y'all gon' have to deal with me 'Cause I'm still puttin' pressure down And I'm givin' you niggas a chance to catch back up, goddamnit I'm finna go, go down, lay down, go to sleep for three years, eight months Get some rest 'Cause when I come home, the pressure back on I'm back, not sleepin', I'm back in the studio on you niggas' head I'm back droppin' chains and watches and new cars Y'all niggas got three years to catch up, bro, I'm tellin' you Shit on the floor, Ghetto Boyz Let me hear that shit, Water, from the jump