Bout Your Paper Phix (Ft. Caskey)

[Intro: Caskey]
Know me from Cali to Bed-Stuy, yeah
Motherfucking Phix and Caskey, bitch (Supreme)
Yeah, Supreme on the beat, yeah, okay
If you ain't 'bout your paper, don't know where the fuck you from

[Verse 1: Caskey]
Ay, running up the fucking bands
Bitch, I got the day-date on the wrist
Everyday I'm plated with the chips
They screaming "mayday" when it hits
I made a payday with the wrist
Came to the west side
You comfortable when the dead rise
You made your home in apartments
But I feel at home when the jet flys
I got killers telling me to go
(I got killers telling me to go)
Started this amatuer, but now it's pro, yeah
(Amatuer but now it's pro)
I made a couple thousand at the stove
But off of music, I done turned a whole
That's shit they know like we in Hollygrove
We gotta get it 'fore we getting old
We in the city, bitches getting chose
I got some pretty women on they toes
Bag full of molly made me overdose
We come alive, they say we cut it close, yeah
We come alive, they say we cut it close, yeah
We go to war, we got a hunnid scopes
Okay, just jumped out into Vegas, dope ain't payin' our wages
Started with a bag full of pills, now we killing on stages
People say they coming for the spot, that shit so outrageous
This shit one for the ages, we got coke like the eighties