Son, I zone, my gun is never on safety

I copped the new Jordan's, the white ones on skate key

Me, I'm just chillin' Pop, serving my time

Got my greens on, these faggots ain't deservin' a shine

And yeah, while I'm home you like livin' abroad

I heard those crackers dissed you, smack you at the board

When 24, dun they did the same to Norman and Lord

Heard you cop the silver GS, my **** you scored

Yeah, it's nothin' 'cuz I'm gettin' bread

Crack is dead, bitches wanna give me head

You's a funny ****, I just saw Kai in the yard

He said, "Holla, when you getta chance, scribe the God"

Tell Kai I said what up, and his sister is grown

I copped the four-fifth auto, it's pretty with chrome

The day I come home, I need a mink and a brand new Mac

A few jump offs, some Dom's, (yeah, yeah) and there's beer and it's black

I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down

I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books

I'm in the studio, droppin' 16's wit' hooks

I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks

I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new kicks

I hit the law library, hope to come home soon

I just finished up the album, finna drop in June

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Pop, my little dun gangstas, caught in blood beef with the Kings

You know Jarome brotha, my dun I used to creep wit' in Queens

And dat's my dun too, so I'ma find out now

And have my dogs on the Island, just get on the prawl

On the other side of things, I'm tryin' to get released

Around my born day, but a **** keep in beef wit' da beast

Fuck the police 'cause all of dem **** is fake

Don't lose your C.R., son, you'll get your open date

Dun, I'ma see ya regardless 'cuz I got two violent felony charges

And you know your appeal is progress

You're my dog, dun

And we gon' keep this tight

I keep your commissary phat, I'ma keep you right

I got the chronic stashed in a coffee carton and kicks

Good lookin' for the bitches butt-naked and the flicks

And you ain't gotta thank me, real **** do real things

I keep freak hoes, they really do ill things

I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down

I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books

I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's wit' hooks

I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks

I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin new kicks

I hit the law library, hope to come home soon

I just finished up the album, finna drop in June (for my girl ****)

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I used to be ugly, now these bitches is Medusa

And guess what? I made you executive producer

Some extra G's, so when you come home you breathe

They won't believe to see me come straight home to a V

Pigs pressin' me, want autographs for they seeds

I gotta C.O. thinkin' that we gon' fuck when I leave

Yo, **** think about this money, fuck them hoes

We gonna throw a pound-a weed out, at one the shows

Spread it out, in the crowd, see them **** get wild

Capone home, **** still diggin our style

Shit is foul, how these crackers tryin' to keep me confined

I gotta visit last week and saw Gremlin Divine

Meet Timbo and Ice, got bent and rolled dice

Scooped, ridin' loose, then we headed to Post

(Son, there's only one minute left) and got some hydro-weed and we had our toast

(Son, there's only one minute left, son, I'm ghost) yeah, yeah

I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down

I'm in jail pumpin iron, son, and readin' books

I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's wit' hooks

I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks

I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new kicks

I hit the law library, hope to come home soon

I just finished up the album, finna drop in June

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down

I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books

I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's wit' hooks

I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks

I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new kicks

I hit the law library, hope to come home soon

I just finished up the album, finna drop in June

Yeah, yeah, yeah