Aye, I've been plottin', lately I've been schemin'

Lash out if someone give me a reason

I'm gettin' cheese, my pockets stay cheesin'

But don't get it fucked up, I'm quick to turn into a demon

Lord, please tell me, why all the hate for?

I'm tryna do good, shit, I'm tryna pave a way for

The less fortunate, I'm tryna make a way for

But fuck it, back to ski masks and clips so I can take four

Five, six, seven, eight, nine

Bodies, I'm way up out my mind

Remain focused, all I'm tryna do is grind

But how the fuck I'm 'posed to do that when all you do is whine?

Complain and hate and say, "Devour music trash"

'Cause I don't always make music for hoes to shake they ass

Or for these dummies poppin' Xans, aye

Fuck the fame and fuck the cash, look

I'll risk it all right now, boy

'Cause I ain't really with the bull like a cowboy

Thirty rounds, boy, put you in the ground, boy

I'm from the land of the lost and never found, boy

Look, and you ain't ever comin' back

Once I make it out the hood I ain't ever lookin' back

Wait

Matter fact, muhfucker, yes I am

'Cause where I'm from nobody's made it, when I do I'm givin' back

Put the city on the my back, that's a fact now

Matter fact, I put the city on the map now

Frontline, never find me in the background

I'll bring the fire to your motherfuckin' campground

Get to the bag, get to the bag, get to the bag

I gotta make it, no, I'm neva takin' my foot off the gas

Ride through the city and when I be ridin' you know that I gotta keep me on a mask

Changin' my life but, no, that doesn't mean that my enemies won't pull up on me and blast, aye

Give 'em a chance, no, your life, you ain't gettin' it back

Bitch, I'm a foolie, be ridin' with the toolies, don't make me pull it and put one in your ass, aye

My pen and my pad

Never gon' see me with that, I done came a long way

If you get in the way of my piggity bank, then your line a go flat, aye

And that's a cold game

Yeah, I heard about you, you're a known lame

The type to shoot and ain't got no aim

Fuckin' guy, bro, where was your aim?

And I don't really fuck with those

Run up on a pussy boy and sock 'em on his button nose, huh

Them foreign thangs, I'm clutchin' those

38's, Mack 11's, Nina's, we be buckin' those

It's like that, boy

It's like that, boy

It's like that, boy

Everywhere I'm at I'm ridin' with the strap, boy

It's like that, boy

It's like that, boy

Yeah, the police pulled me over the other day

But they ain't find it 'cause I had it stashed, boy