[Intro]
Six million ways to die
(Took a lot to get this Rollie nigga)
Six million ways to get rich
(Huh, hah)
[Verse 1]
Everybody keep tellin' me, "Make a club record.
You ain't trappin' no more—stop makin' drug records.
You got a daughter 'bout to come—stop makin' thug records."
I brought that money back fast, I had the plug flexin'
Welcome to Harlem, el Barrio, that's the drug section
Hit your bitch with my jeans on, ain't making love naked
I got love for my loco but I know cuz reckless
I ain't gotta sleep in the projects, I did enough stressing
My father was a rolling stone but taught me one lesson
Do your dirt by yourself, your friends be the ones telling
I knew it broke my mother's heart to know her son selling
I had coke in my dresser, trifling as ever
I had a dream Biggie featured me on Life After
I be with my same niggas, I don't really like rappers
Niggas can't make a song for nothing but they nice actors
Go and get a movie role, low bagging up tuna rolls, raw shit
I come from a block where you seen it but never saw shit
I be at the juice bar, my wheat grass and bark shit
My younging just came from up north, he want to park shit
Tryna teach him something bout life and how we started
Lower class poverty, homies from jail calling me
Playing the number everyday but never hit the lottery
Liquor store on every corner, might as well get drunk
I remember that free lunch wasn't shooting, we would jump stones
Niggas like the end of the blunt, traps load up
I told papi I got him by the end of the month
I was thinking bout 550's with the cinnamon guts
These shots'll blow your mind away, now your memory dust
In memory of, I got a JF Kennedy buzz
Presidential called enterprise, I need another rental
Tryna take a package down to North Carolina
Maybe buy some Ferragamo, I'm so focused on the commas
Six million ways to die
(Took a lot to get this Rollie nigga)
Six million ways to get rich
(Huh, hah)
[Verse 1]
Everybody keep tellin' me, "Make a club record.
You ain't trappin' no more—stop makin' drug records.
You got a daughter 'bout to come—stop makin' thug records."
I brought that money back fast, I had the plug flexin'
Welcome to Harlem, el Barrio, that's the drug section
Hit your bitch with my jeans on, ain't making love naked
I got love for my loco but I know cuz reckless
I ain't gotta sleep in the projects, I did enough stressing
My father was a rolling stone but taught me one lesson
Do your dirt by yourself, your friends be the ones telling
I knew it broke my mother's heart to know her son selling
I had coke in my dresser, trifling as ever
I had a dream Biggie featured me on Life After
I be with my same niggas, I don't really like rappers
Niggas can't make a song for nothing but they nice actors
Go and get a movie role, low bagging up tuna rolls, raw shit
I come from a block where you seen it but never saw shit
I be at the juice bar, my wheat grass and bark shit
My younging just came from up north, he want to park shit
Tryna teach him something bout life and how we started
Lower class poverty, homies from jail calling me
Playing the number everyday but never hit the lottery
Liquor store on every corner, might as well get drunk
I remember that free lunch wasn't shooting, we would jump stones
Niggas like the end of the blunt, traps load up
I told papi I got him by the end of the month
I was thinking bout 550's with the cinnamon guts
These shots'll blow your mind away, now your memory dust
In memory of, I got a JF Kennedy buzz
Presidential called enterprise, I need another rental
Tryna take a package down to North Carolina
Maybe buy some Ferragamo, I'm so focused on the commas
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