[Verse 1: G Count]
Jumped off the porch and got married to the streets young without a pre-nup
Go to war make it where you can't go to the corner store for three months
(Yeah, yeah)
Deers in the headlight, I make 'em freeze up
When they see the titties hanging out the bottom of the fifty
Please don’t make me start squeezing on this D-cup
Talking double tap, I'm all over the field like a running back
Make em run up in your crib while you at the kitchen table cutting through the bubble wrap
All the dirt that I do for the cake but damn look what I do to the face
You see these diamonds shining on my Audemars like the stars on the roof of the Wraith
Rich niggas so you know you don't wanna do shit with us
But all along guarantee that G quick on the draw like a stick figure
Boss I demand all the respect, so address me in a nice tone
And this cross that's hanging off my neck big enough to crucify Christ on
Thumbing through this cash, I'm getting money
[?] the dash, two hundred and twenty
'Rari running like a track team, in this mac green like a bottle of Remy
Chicago is in me, I remember being down in the icky
Choppas here in the [?] elevator crawl space
[?]ready to build in broad day
K9 chasing niggas in the projects like a rabbit in a dog race
[?] pockets of the Balmain, always stuffed with the bankroll
The white bitch in my bathroom she snorting powder off the face bowl
Meanwhile the hitters on the other side of town riding around with the dracos[?]
[?]
And they sipping lean, and they pill poppin
Gotta bag but I will hit a stain[?] just to see if I still got it
Nylon on the face, potato on the firearm of my gunsmith
It’s the pope versus the pontiff
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.