THat Part (Black Hippy Remix)

Me no conversate with the fake, that part

All my bitches independent bitches, that part

I just want the paper, that part

All my bitches flavored

That part, that part, that part, that part, aye

It's impossible to love it if you don't come from it

It's things that goes on, you just can't stomach

I seen it all happen but I ain't saying nada

Peep, 24/7 in the hood, it's hot

If you wanna fall through, get Top on the phone

He don't pick up, then it ain't bool

Let you know it ain't good to stop

That part, that part (That part)

I'm a Watts **** and we not kosher

Shit, ****'s only concern is the bottom line like a stockholder

This is where they come, where they copping boulders

Hoes catfight with their tits exposed

Still sipping on that Wild Irish Rose

Still rock swap, meet designer clothes, agh

Black MAC-11 in my mattress

Make a hundred racks, do a backflip

Might go Uncle Luke on them hoes

Pussy pop for a bankroll, yeah

All my killers with me got a blank face, yeah

On that, fuck you bitch, where the pay-pay?

Make 'em pull up on your block with them 2-2

Aim it at your face, hey

Moving with the rock and the Glock concealers

You either selling rock or you flock to get it

You either on the watch where the clock is ticking

The life of my Watts and my Bompton ****

Get pinched, I'ma post a bond

Know P-O-P gon' hold it down

Look, need cash, gotta get you some

If a hater tell you money ain't everything

He don't want you to get none

So we thugging like DMX, bleed shit, P.M.S.

Point blank, period, meet me on the E.S.

I'm fully with the B.S., believe that

And we don't stress a .38 till it free your chest

Then pee-pee on the P.O.'s desk

I'm Jay-Z in the blow out press

Relate me to your blowout's best

Can heat me, I'm remote, you're deaf

I'm HD causing photo theft, my A.C. antifreeze gotta (That part)

Hold your breath, I'm eight feet when I hold this TEC

Protect me from the local threats

My I.D. said my eye don't rest, my I.V. qualify T-rex

Society kept my I.Q. vexed

Denyin' me from my Ivy School

Applyin' me to the street I slept

I quietly had to hold this tool

Reminding me of the block I repped

The turf I stepped, the church and the earth I blessed

The first I guessed, the alert was the murk I chef

That hearse, the flirt with perks of a kill confessed

Dispersed the worst, the first 48 addressed

The search and loss of verse of the birth I nest

The uh, the awe, the curse of the poet's incest

The good, the flaws, the pain to reverse what's left

Me no conversate with the fake, that part

All my bitches independent bitches, that part

I just want the paper, that part

All my bitches flavored

That part, that part, that part, that part, aye

Zest god, zest god, zest god, zest god

Lamborghini high, cream soda with the Wockhardt

Soulo Ho3 the prophet, yeah, Soulo hold the profit

That's the fortune teller making withdrawals and deposits

Ironic, they wanna know where I've been in

Where the fuck I've been hiding in?

When the fuck am I dropping that?

New work that take 'em to church and

Turn the universe upside down again

Since you're so smart

I can't get on my groove till we get the Q first

You and I will not heed

My pool of thought is large enough to part the Red Sea

Father forgive 'em, for they know not know who they see

I got all eyes on me, call me 3-Pac, Soulo

Hang on, ****, let me get some

Hang on, ****

Hang on

Mmm, made a mill and I spent it in the same day

Got a chopper, not the A.K.

Getting money on the vacay

Go go gadget's in the driveway

Groovy Tony in July 8th

Yeah, I'm killing kitties on a Sunday

How you balling in a Hyundai?

My Ferrari got a toupee

Swerve in a big body

Your favorite artist, I'm his big homie

Yeah, I'm walking with a fifth and I ain't voting, I'm a crip, homie

I'm where the Bloods, where them Loc's at

Where the blood, where the choke 'round, gloves for the combat

How the Feds in your contacts?

How the Feds know my set name?

Fled in the Mulsanne

Hydrate up the rap game

Heard Soulo coming up next

And SZA got a classic, ****

Heard Zay just got it mastered, uh

The fire burning through the plastic, so fingers to the badges

They don't love you till the racks evolve

When I was broke, they wouldn't accept the call

Now they on my for my decimals, blank faces, gotta X 'em off

Enemies gotta bob and weave

Gang-banging like we stand for something

When Alton Sterling getting killed for nothing

Two cowards in the car, they're just there to film

Saying Black Lives Matter, should've die with him

Wrong **** in your hood, you gon' ride on him

White **** with a badge, you gon' let that slide?

Tell me how they sent that footage off and slept that night

I feel bad that my daughter gotta live this life

I'll die for my daughter, gotta fight this fight

Put our Blank Face on, ****, let that drop (That, that, that part)