Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Derrick Akil Morris
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Chemist
Producer
Eugene Kennedy
Engineer
Lyrics
Bullets be flyin
And some of us runnin
And some us hittin the deck
**** be screaming and fighting
We living round heathens
All fightin to get some respect
Slap the shit out of a **** in front of a crowd
And I bet that'll get me a rep
Bodying beat after beat after beat after beat
You could bet imma get me check
Used to get herb in the trap
Now I a murder a track
Bet this flow gon get me outta debt
Straight out the jects
And I'm rappin circles round ****
Are facts you gon learn to accept
Grew up wit **** I used to play basketball wit
Keep a rocket like Kenny the Jet
**** get foul and get flagrant
Be pounding the pavement in step
And he stay wit a tech
Uh
Where we from we keep it ten toes
They be lettin them shells go
Like a egg roll
And my man know the feds close
Still movin them elbows
And we dreaming bout
Shoppin on Melrose
And we drivin them benzos
I look like a star
And I'm feeling like Fredro
And we from where the rent low
Who we be around
**** disturbing the peace
Neighbors be callin police
For the way that we slaughtering beef
Then we tossing the heat
Gotta watch for narcs on the beat
DM be scorching them beats
Make it hard to compete
When I send these bars off to the streets
It's gon make it hard for some yall dudes to eat
These **** get washed up
Then rinsed then repeat
Imma finish ****
This ain't for beginners
Turn john stud to a john doe
Distant Relatives
What the business is
Pull up lookin like head honcho
How you gon get fed wit yo mouth closed
We straight out the hood where them pounds blow
We Pray we could get us a ounce sold
Til we playin wit money like Dow Jones
We hustle in front of those brownstones
Tryin to get us a meal so we flip a pack
Take a good look at a Troy Boy
And my homie a Albany River Rat
We pushin that unity boy boy
See that separate shit we ain't into that
We share the same trauma
That's word to my mama
Believe what I say
Check the internet
I lived in the heights
It was was 740
Got 730 **** steppin for me
Just GOD that I walk wit
No weapons on me
Protected against any weapons forming
They way they be rappin is gettin boring
Imma raise the bar up and then set the margin
Get a comfortable seat
Cuz we just gettin started
I aint killin em yet
This is just the warning
I'm gone
Written by: Derrick Akil Morris

