Ayy, nephew

What's up, unc?

You gotta let that bullshit go, you want some real money, my ****, you hear me?

What the fuck you talkin' 'bout, man?

(Wiz) Fuck all them fuck ****, you know what I'm sayin'? You gotta let that shit go

Huh

You can go to prison or die alone 'cause you ain't got no clones (Shit)

And you can catch twenty years from your main mans on what he said on the phone (Hoo)

You can flip the light switch with a White bitch when she hard on your bone (For real)

But once you get the right brick, then you price switch, can't be talkin' on the phone (You lyin')

See, I been workin' overtime and the night shift just to get it on my own (True)

'Cause everybody baby mama tryna suck your dick when you ridin' on chrome (Huh)

And I ain't never seen you in Hidden Valley, you was in a different zone (Never)

I came a long way from sleepin' on the pallet and wearin' other ****' clothes (Hoo)

You ain't never did time in the penitentiary, I can tell how you pose (Mm)

And I know you scared to shoot your gun, I can tell how you froze (Scared)

You ain't never been slapped in your mouth, I can tell by your jokes (You play too much)

You know you're dead wrong, keep postin' throwbacks, they can tell how you're broke (Ha, ha)

Even though I practice discipline, it's some **** still gotta die (That still gotta die)

It's some **** still gotta get a bullet in the head, lookin' in they eye (While I'm lookin' in they eye)

I don't trust my bitch, I don't trust my partner and I don't trust my baby mama (I don't trust my baby mama)

The only ones kept it real was my scale and my wood-grain chopper (My wood-grain chopper)

Even though I practice discipline, it's some **** still gotta die (Still gotta die)

It's some **** still gotta get a bullet in the head, lookin' in they eye (While I'm lookin' in they eye)

Yeah, I graduated from buyin' one-five, servin' truckers at the Pilot (Truckers at the Pilot)

Before I ever play around with the mail, I'ma send it with the driver (I'ma send it with the driver)

I know a **** who be fuckin' everybody bitch, but he smoke crack (Hoo)

I know some **** who ain't never gettin' out of prison 'cause they won't rat (Solid)

I got a couple ****, they just keep catchin' bodies 'cause they don't lack (Retarded)

I'ma be a old man, pocket full of money, in a Brougham 'Lac (Skrrt)

See, you're right-hand, he'll fuck your bitch and shake your hand, Bobby Womack (For real)

And your left-hand, he can't wait to cut your throat just to get a couple racks (Ooh)

Do you know how many times I done took L's? I ain't trippin', I'ma get it back

It's done been plenty times I done ran it up and ran through a hundred racks (Hoo)

With a eight ball and a flip phone, I can get all the junkies back

'Fore I beg a **** for a front (Then what?), I'll be out here sellin' dummy packs

Before I ask you to hit the blunt (Then what?), I'll go and bag up nickle bags

'Cause I don't mind pressin' up green and red pills like a Christmas pack (Yeah)

Even though I practice discipline, it's some **** still gotta die (That still gotta die)

It's some **** still gotta get a bullet in the head, lookin' in they eye (While I'm lookin' in they eye)

I don't trust my bitch, I don't trust my partner and I don't trust my baby mama (I don't trust my baby mama)

The only ones kept it real was my scale and my wood-grain chopper (My wood-grain chopper)

Even though I practice discipline, it's some **** still gotta die (Still gotta die)

It's some **** still gotta get a bullet in the head, lookin' in they eye (While I'm lookin' in they eye)

Yeah, I graduated from buyin' one-five, servin' truckers at the Pilot (Truckers at the Pilot)

Before I ever play around with the mail, I'ma send it with the driver