[Intro]
Floc Rosa on the track
Yo Floc Rosa, ye, go looking, go looking, ye
Racks to my, ah
Nah, I can't start like that, damn (Huh)
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Here we going
Don't stop
Huh, ye, huh
[Verse 1]
Racks to my head, you got two dollars
I just copped me a new mini Draco for the new problems
No Biggie but they don't know who shot 'em
My shirt Michael Jordan, it's sick with the flu collar
I'm Crip, don't you question my set, bitch, I'm too proper
Grape is the set, I eat steak, I don't do lobster
I ain't with the wrestling, my name ain't Umaga
Put that 9 to his back, turn that boy into Ibaka
Put some time on yo death, call that G-Shocker
Order my shoes, can't buy 'em from FootLocker
He a snitch in the hood, he the neighborhood watchers
Got some Crips in the hood, that's some neighborhood problems
Show no love in the hood, we will body a (Bitch)
Used to wear Nautica, Hollister (Shit)
Back in them days them bitches wouldn't holla-la
Check my Instagram, two million of the followers
Add it up, couple million of the dolla-las
But still 'til this day see my opp, I'ma pop 'em
We don't miss with them sticks, we don't play 'bout our problems
Last nigga played with the block, we done dropped 'em
I wouldn't the type to play Coppers & Robbers
I robbed with the robbers
Fought and shot guns to resolve all my problems
Never shook hands with the opps
If we did, then the next day we shot 'em
Cripping out West, huh, Cripping out West, huh
I just smoke a blunt, I don't do the Percocets
Pass my lil' homie the 50, he gon' come and chop your neck
He shot a nigga in the neck up on a Next and said, What's next?
Yeah, I used to ride a Next, ha, now I ride a Mongoose
1942, used to sip that gin and juice
You know it's fuck 12 even when they let my mans loose
I used to have nothing, now I'm smoking in a Benz coupe (Damn)
Floc Rosa on the track
Yo Floc Rosa, ye, go looking, go looking, ye
Racks to my, ah
Nah, I can't start like that, damn (Huh)
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Here we going
Don't stop
Huh, ye, huh
[Verse 1]
Racks to my head, you got two dollars
I just copped me a new mini Draco for the new problems
No Biggie but they don't know who shot 'em
My shirt Michael Jordan, it's sick with the flu collar
I'm Crip, don't you question my set, bitch, I'm too proper
Grape is the set, I eat steak, I don't do lobster
I ain't with the wrestling, my name ain't Umaga
Put that 9 to his back, turn that boy into Ibaka
Put some time on yo death, call that G-Shocker
Order my shoes, can't buy 'em from FootLocker
He a snitch in the hood, he the neighborhood watchers
Got some Crips in the hood, that's some neighborhood problems
Show no love in the hood, we will body a (Bitch)
Used to wear Nautica, Hollister (Shit)
Back in them days them bitches wouldn't holla-la
Check my Instagram, two million of the followers
Add it up, couple million of the dolla-las
But still 'til this day see my opp, I'ma pop 'em
We don't miss with them sticks, we don't play 'bout our problems
Last nigga played with the block, we done dropped 'em
I wouldn't the type to play Coppers & Robbers
I robbed with the robbers
Fought and shot guns to resolve all my problems
Never shook hands with the opps
If we did, then the next day we shot 'em
Cripping out West, huh, Cripping out West, huh
I just smoke a blunt, I don't do the Percocets
Pass my lil' homie the 50, he gon' come and chop your neck
He shot a nigga in the neck up on a Next and said, What's next?
Yeah, I used to ride a Next, ha, now I ride a Mongoose
1942, used to sip that gin and juice
You know it's fuck 12 even when they let my mans loose
I used to have nothing, now I'm smoking in a Benz coupe (Damn)
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