Voice Of The Streetz (feat. City Paper & Jellyroll)

Okay, what it is, what it is, what it do man?

Young paper, young paper

Young clever man, you know what it is

I'm in the motherfucking building man

We finna take it to our hood man

Fuck with the black representative

I'm in the trap strapped up getting paper

Went to Preston Taylor and got young paper

I brought him to the gate, it's going down

Right here we pay five for the pound

I flood the whole town from Blakemore to Smalls from

West East land to the Prince, back up to the Moss

In my town you gotta play that shit real smart

We bout to get money, we ain't worried about a charge

No matter what it is, we gotta get paid

When we tired of the trap, we go in and get laid

Pop them bottles, yeah we party all night

If a **** get wrong, best believe we gon' fight

I'm from a small town ducked off in the country

A dirty south ****, hell yeah I'm country

I fuck with real ****, yeah that's why I fuck with paper

I'm a hustler homie and I don't fuck with ya haters

I'm from Gagtown, boy we get paid for selling dope

Cigarillo full of mead, dro, yeah that's what we smoke

I'm from the north side, yeah that's what clever bands know

Where a **** in the trap, they stay strapped with they tone

I'm from Gagtown, boy we get paid for selling dope

Cigarillo full of mead, dro yeah that's what we smoke

I'm from the north side, yeah that's what clever bands know

Where a **** in the trap, they stay strapped with they tone

Who it is, young paper, I'm worth a credit penny

Six hundred for these frames, I got twenty-twenty

Ten grand for the Jacob, check my wrist game

The chain on my neck worth a whole brick of mane

President Taylor made, right on forty block

Axe pistol, I'm the shit like the port-a-pot

Sold my first brick, hold then my life changed

Lost sixty-five hundred in the dice games

I used to post up serving under streetlights

And then I met Yo Gotti with that chip price

That's a chicken bluff, check the scale player

I'm running hard with that rock, call me Gale Sayers

And they're saying I'm the best, but I don't give a fuck

As long as I got some bitches in a bigger truck

Until I reach six, I won't put the pack down

Big money, talk cash, feel the Gag town

I'm from Cash field, homie, where they get paid

Westside, ****, President Taylor made

Where they ridin' all day, you gotta keep the heat

New **** this year, boy, sell the streets

I'm from Cash field, homie, where they get paid

Westside, ****, President Taylor made

Where they ridin' all day, you gotta keep the heat

New **** this year, boy, sell the streets see

First of all, I'm Jenny Rowland, damn it, I'm clean

I'm like a valet parker, the way I handle these keys

Bitches like, oh my God, when I pull it out my jaws

And I'm in a different car when I pull out the garage

You'd hate to see this 45 half in the class

Cause, uh-uh, you gon' need more than a napkin for that

Yeah, you know I keep that cannon on standby

And plus I keep enough onions to make a grown man cry

D-Lo, D-Lo, he sittin' on a kilo

I told him from Miyakota, ain't gon' break with my people

They call me Jelly Rolling, and I'm expected to blow

I'm like a bowl of spaghetti-o with these X's and O's

Yeah, I'm talkin' about X-Fields, I'm talkin' about O-Z's

I run with them real killers and run with them O-Gs

Southside, Antioch, you already know that

Zip hittin' in my fitted, yep, that's a snow cap

See, I'm from Cash field, shit, you already know

It's Southside, Jelly Roll, Antioch zone

From where them 26's run on the whip

Only place that you can get a 600 a zip, yeah

See, I'm from Cash field, shit, you already know

It's Southside, Jelly Roll, Antioch zone

From where them 26's run on the whip

Only place that you can get a 600 a zip, bitch