Juvenile Hell (feat. Flee Lord, Havoc & Lloyd Banks)

Griselda (look) Was a shooter before rap, and I'm still in action 32 bullets fill the MAC clip, my niggas active (brr) Hollow tips in the strap, I'ma fill his hat with We clap shit that hit his cap and peel it backwards (cap) Break the gas down to fill the Backwoods I just opened this pack, it was vacuum sealed and still in plastic (smokin') I lost hope, you told me you wanted all smoke Nah, bro, you just a lil' nigga and your bars broke (you broke, nigga) On Burgard, right off Doat, I sold raw coke I cried when Country Mike died, my heart broke (my nigga) On the yard, get your jaw poked, as far as the bars wrote Not only did I raise the bar, the bar broke (talk to 'em) We shoot sticks with see-through clips You better pray that bitch jam up when we doin' this (ha) I breeze through Phipps, I need new drip (huh), the grip on me Think I'm lackin' this time? I'ma leave you clipped Machine, you bitch Yeah, that leave you split Wanna put money on it? Nigga, c-note this All you niggas know what time it is, I'm G, no Clipse Reload, bitch, your brain's all over the whip The clock tickin', tick-tick, nigga, leave you split Wanna put money on it? Nigga, c-note this All you niggas know what time it is, I'm G, no Clipse Reload, bitch, your brain's all over the whip The clock tickin', tick-tick (Lord, Lord) You rolled the town, but, nigga, I rolled a six Cee-lo trips, that .40 got a mean old kick (brr) Point it at him broad day, then he gon' dip (he gon' dip) You violate the code, brodie, we on shit (huh) Chine and the legend (what), big clean Smith & Wesson (yes) 7-1-6 and big Queens spittin' weapons (boom, boom) Out in east side Buff', you get your feet tied up (got him) Meanwhile, in the boroughs, niggas' streets got touched (uh huh) Police got snuffed after he got bust I turn a body to a bag soon as beef pop up (brr) Send a hit through a text while you sittin' on your steps (brr) That youngin come in runnin' with the grip in his sweats Black KITH Corona mask, MACs sittin' on the grass (grass) Now I'm on tours, no more crack pitchin' on the ave (no) Sickest in the city (yeah), got the quickest hitters with me (got him) My Cali homie lurkin' with the blicky in his Dickies, motherfucker Yeah, that leave you split Wanna put money on it? Nigga, c-note this All you niggas know what time it is, I'm G, no Clipse Reload, bitch, your brain's all over the whip The clock tickin', tick-tick, nigga, leave you split Wanna put money on it? Nigga, c-note this All you niggas know what time it is, I'm G, no Clipse Reload, bitch, your brain's all over the whip The clock tickin', tick-tick (uh) 42 in pre-rolled hits I'm ridin' dirty, policin' without the sheeps don't mix Des' Eagle grips, don't ego trip, I match designer Black attire, rapid fire, rest in peace whole cliques The never scary, more to bury, we bury shit all the time Need a specialist to examine what's goin' on in my mind Lately, your favorite rappers have all been on a decline I throw back and got better both times, these PCP and coke lines I'm on my rivals, embarrass 'em with my calm bravado My alma mater of smackin' a nigga horizontal The soul survivor, you stuntin', money be gone tomorrow Pour out a bottle, tire marks spark the Verrazzano As far as rhymin', I'm a god, don't pursue the incomparable Feels like I'm up against the odds, watch me do the impossible Infatuated with them lights, get you views in the hospital Soon as you slip up, nigga, bet a blood pool'll be washin' you Yeah, that leave you split Wanna put money on it? Nigga, c-note this All you niggas know what time it is, I'm G, no Clipse Reload, bitch, your brain's all over the whip The clock tickin', tick-tick, nigga, leave you split Wanna put money on it? Nigga, c-note this All you niggas know what time it is, I'm G, no Clipse Reload, bitch, your brain's all over the whip The clock tickin', tick-tick Griselda