Lesson (feat. Pooh Shiesty)

Yeah, nigga Ho, ho, mob, nigga Tellin' you (1017) The Mayor, nigga, trouble (Glacier) 1017, So Icy (Glacier) I can't speak on I can't speak on that shit, can't fuck with them Patrick ass niggas I'm on the block with this shit, in the trap, nigga I don't know shit about a murder, I can't speak on (I can't speak on) I fill that Backwood up with VLONE, sound like speakerphone I fucked that ho then blocked her phone, she say, "You dead wrong" I pull off in that AMG, ain't black, it's two-tone They tried to cross me out I tell 'em I can't get crossed I'm rich as hell, my pockets fat as hell like ham hocks Yeah, it's the Mayor and the Mob and we don't take losses He talk that shit, but I make one call, get that pussy nigga off It's the boss Make one false move, I'ma get that nigga crossed Money talk And guess what, I got a hundred in my mouth Boy, your snout I smoke big backwoods of zaza every hour Not the same Boy, you broke as hell, your mama is to blame Ain't raise you right Mama Mayor raised me to grow up with stripes I kept a pipe 'Cause I seen a nigga get killed on my bike It changed my life Promised myself I wouldn't let them take my life So I move right Kickin' doors every mornin', trap at night Give you a lesson 'Bout this street shit, I'm a motherfuckin' vet I got respect Ain't nobody more hood than my nigga TEC Was movin' bad Country nigga, serve a city boy with swag Now that's his ass If he want smoke, say how hell he do the dash? Ice is cold Fifteen on my wrist, eighteen in my earlobe We got the globe 1017, we up, bankroll hood, it can't fold Wipe his nose Bitch got mad because his slutty ass bitch chose I did her cold Made her suck me with my ice on, she was cold I don't know shit about a murder, I can't speak on (I can't speak on) I fill that Backwood up with VLONE, sound like speakerphone I fucked that ho then blocked her phone, she say, "You dead wrong" I pull off in that AMG, ain't black, it's two-tone They tried to cross me out I tell 'em I can't get crossed I'm rich as hell, my pockets fat as hell like ham hocks Yeah, it's the Mayor and the Mob and we don't take losses He talk that shit, but I make one call, get that pussy nigga off Ayy, Foogi, you ain't got to make no calls to get them pussies whacked Just catch him comin' out his sneaky link and stretch him with this MAC Two hundred shots up in this Optima, 150 in this MAC The chopper kick, got .308s, no .556s in my mag Got bitches pullin' on my dick, I went and got my bands up Could be the pilot on the plane and your ass still wouldn't pass us We blessed his block up with a carbon, go and pick your mans up They done got a criminal rich, now it's shots out the Lam' truck I do too much, my pockets stuffed, done got my rubber bands stuck Done poured a ten up in a Faygo, this might be my last cup When you go on that mission, boy, make sure you mask up I started my own gang, I'm into it with the task force I don't know shit about a murder, I can't speak on (I can't speak on) I fill that Backwood up with VLONE, sound like speakerphone I fucked that ho then blocked her phone, she say, "You dead wrong" I pull off in that AMG, ain't black, it's two-tone They tried to cross me out, I tell 'em I can't get crossed I'm rich as hell, my pockets fat as hell like ham hocks Yeah, it's the Mayor and the Mob and we don't take losses He talk that shit, but I make one call, get that pussy nigga off