[Intro]
(Come On P)
[Verse]
Seein' my people cook work, it fucked up my childhood
Got my bitch carryin' my Glock in her purse, said she Suge
Fake-ass jewelry, you bought your whole kit from Hollywood
Ran it up out of town, brung it back to my neighborhood
I ain't no rapper, fuck an interview with Tim Westwood
Drop triple-double on they block, it's like I'm Russell Westbrook
Left school, I dropped out, ain't make it to the yearbook
Unc' doin' culinary arts, I swear that boy a good cook
Made it out the trenches, it was too many shootouts
Countin' up some racks, gettin' high inside my penthouse
This shit be comin' by the load, I need to rent a warehouse
And when it's money on your head, you gon' meet them bloodhounds
Bitch, my spot is not a store, you can't get a discount
I charge a hundred for an eighth, you must be at the wrong house
Ten racks on me but I'ma use this card at checkout
Twenty for a show, tell the promoter write the check out
Every time somebody die, they blame us for the murder rate
She used to hold me back in school, now I fuck my classmate
This ain't no game, once you get hit, it ain't no armor plates
All these pounds on me, I need to knock off this body weight
Unemployment hittin', I charge five thousand for my steak
Cleanin' up my money, so I invested into the real estate
Big mansion, I remember bein' on section 8
Runnin' up the money so long, damn, I hope my leg don't break
(Come On P)
[Verse]
Seein' my people cook work, it fucked up my childhood
Got my bitch carryin' my Glock in her purse, said she Suge
Fake-ass jewelry, you bought your whole kit from Hollywood
Ran it up out of town, brung it back to my neighborhood
I ain't no rapper, fuck an interview with Tim Westwood
Drop triple-double on they block, it's like I'm Russell Westbrook
Left school, I dropped out, ain't make it to the yearbook
Unc' doin' culinary arts, I swear that boy a good cook
Made it out the trenches, it was too many shootouts
Countin' up some racks, gettin' high inside my penthouse
This shit be comin' by the load, I need to rent a warehouse
And when it's money on your head, you gon' meet them bloodhounds
Bitch, my spot is not a store, you can't get a discount
I charge a hundred for an eighth, you must be at the wrong house
Ten racks on me but I'ma use this card at checkout
Twenty for a show, tell the promoter write the check out
Every time somebody die, they blame us for the murder rate
She used to hold me back in school, now I fuck my classmate
This ain't no game, once you get hit, it ain't no armor plates
All these pounds on me, I need to knock off this body weight
Unemployment hittin', I charge five thousand for my steak
Cleanin' up my money, so I invested into the real estate
Big mansion, I remember bein' on section 8
Runnin' up the money so long, damn, I hope my leg don't break
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