Lyrics

Uh-huh, yeah G Herbo, "Humble Beast", man 150 dream team, 150 Roc Block, bitch 79th, Essex N- talking all this gangsta s- It's real gangsta - over there When I was up on 78th, you was scared straight Before Roc died and Gilly caught that fed case Remember Roc died, every morning shots fired You was never in them trenches, you was dead weight Never end up reminiscing, watch your homie hemorrhage Even though you want to kill 'em, never play them Always came up with the blueprint, never had to listen I had a bunch of detentions, too many pink slips turned to suspensions Now I just walked in the car lot Holding my pink slips, rocking Givenchy If I had my life on the line I'd take the shot but I'm not a Nowitzki Chi real hot like a shot of the whiskey If I'm not ducking, how could you miss me? Glued to the blicky, keep my -with me I get the back end, still I get back, in the back of the truck If the club try to frisk me I get so high just like I'm a hippy Back in the '60s, Percs got me trippy I did two thirties, I'm off a sixty I'm in a Range Rover Sport on the road Tryna lose control, no I'm not Missy I quit the drank, and I do not miss it Won't even pour it up when I'm not busy I'm on a mission, I'm always busy, counting up benji's Tryin' get some more, some more bread Look at my cars right now, I got for-show bread Lil -, Lindsay, he got the Lohan I put the work in like I got four hands And I got love for a few Respect for a couple n- But ain't no fear in my heart for no man Woo! Woo! Keep my sword on me like Conan Before the rap, I swear I was poor man Now my cribs and s- gotta door man N- stay hating like "Herbo a ho man" "How yo gon' show man? Whatchu gon' blow, then?" "I heard he toting his pipe everyday and he shot some before" "What, you knew him before then?" I heard he the realest, and he be with killers They sound like gorillas, and ride 4 wheelers They waving them 30s and yellin' "No Limit!" If you ain't with it then - mind your business Got bulletproof vests, just like armadillos I'm on the corner, with nothin' but dealers Clinching a .40 when I'm on the block Water whippin' my wrist when I'm under the ceiling Guess I'm a hypocrite, 'fore I got shot We was sending 'em out, give a f- 'bout they feelings And when I got shot, I was back on the block With my crutch and my Glock, give a f- 'bout the healing From the start of the day to the finish we was drillin' Guess we was mentally illing Couldn't even stop, we allergic to chillin' Had to wake up and think like a villain (han) Now my whole thought process different Wake up and think bout a million Sometimes I don't talk I just listen Can't never be nothin' I ain't missin' Some s- you just learn on your own I taught myself how to not go to prison They want us to be all alone They tryin' divide us off in divisions Tryin' divide us by our decisions Take advantage of our kindness so that's why I'm vicious I seen ballers rise and fall that's why I'm ambitious Locked in shackles or they gone, most of all my n- Pour out all my liquor
Writer(s): Daniel Watson, Herbert Randall Wright Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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