Da Cops Lil Flip & Z-Ro (Ft. Trae tha Truth)

[Intro]
Thank you, thank you very much
Now it's back to the block, holla
You know, we from the hood right
We use to runnin' from the cops
Let's go

[Chorus]
Hold up shhh wait, I think I hear the cops
Whoa, it's time to close down shop
Hold up shhh wait, I think I hear the cops
You hear them tires, when the block get hot

[Verse 1: Lil' Flip]
I'm straight off the plane, on my way to the block
Instead of a Matchbox, I got a neck full of rocks
A gold Bentley watch, with three karats on top
You know I got eight clovers, with three in the shop
Nigga I'm straight from the gutter, too fresh to stutter
In my hood you rap, play ball or hustle
And if you living with your mother, and you over 18
That's a god damn shame, if you know what I mean
I'm still down with Will-Lean, cause he kept it one hundred
That's why, he got a welcome back piece on his stomach
My chinchilla been iller, cause I cut the sleeves
And most niggas get X'd out, because of greed
I'm top five dead or alive, I need my props
Left Miami in my plane, I had to leave my yacht
And I try my best, to figure y'all people out
But niggas hate it cause I made it, and I'm sitting on top
I use to run from the cops, four years ago
A hardheaded young kid, stealing vehicles
My best friend got shot, and my uncle got popped
The FEDs caught his ass, coming out of Little Rock
I pack a lil' Glock, a deuce-deuce in my socks
When y'all gon realize, I got the streets on lock
And my new Caprice drop, plus I got a L-Dog
Nigga this is how I'm living, I ain't gotta tell y'all
I'm about my mail dog, they told me I would fail y'all
I'm a hustler, I ain't gotta use a fucking scale dog
I'm about my mail y'all, they told me I would fail y'all
I'm a hustler, I ain't gotta use a fucking scale dog