Tekst piosenki
Yeah I’m hustlin’ all them quarters on that back block
Rather have four quarters then hundred pennies tell ’em to kick rocks
Where the stash at
Yo this party whack nigga pass that
I cash that
Yall ain’t make it till’ you run it back
All the shit I spit is straight facts
I’m on my paper talk
I’ll moon walk to the moon and back
For some big gaup
Fuck cops
I guess you can call this off the top of my head cause after this I know shorty givin’ me head
Me and all my niggas make bread
Call this a bad bakery
I burn bread
Nobodys makin’ me
All them years of not being fed
Man this shit savin’ me
Cavin’ me in
All this stressin’ I should have a bald head
Call Mr. Clean
Cause after the job there won’t be no lead
Just a random body they found fucking dead
Let me show them who there fuckin messin with
I be spitting in the closet (Real)
I be get taking over beats (Okay)
I be getting all this fire
I be getting all this heat (Thats hot)
I be getting all this loud
I be getting all my dreams (These dreams)
I be getting all this money
Yeah I know just what it seems
The cops coming and I’m running out the back door
Motherfucker what you looking at what’s that for?
(What)
Sianara use a comma, slice like that sword
Coming out your fucking mouth, like yous an actor
It’s beast coast
We the illest of them villains
Put our hands up to the ceilings
We gon’ make a couple millions
And we get it how we get it
Fuck yo tracks
I’ll keep on dissin
How you listen
And you glisten
Godlier than any christian
Yeah, I’m pissin all you faggots off
Blowing up so big (Boom!)
You gotta call the bomb squad (SQUAD)
Thanks a lot
You be taking some time off
I be wakin up at 6
To write another fucking song (Uh huh)
Fuck poltians I’d rather be illumnati superstison say fuck a student tuition
I’m on a misson
Gettin’ all my nigga out of the kitchen
Whippin in whips
Say fuck gettin shot and limpin’
Me and all my bros
Thats all I fuckin know
I never see red just green that means go
Fuck a christmas handout
I get it on my own
17 Years old and I’m grown
I’m grown up
And all these people lookin’ at me
They be thinking I’m a thug
As I’m running right through the streets
And they taking a look at these
What’chu lookin’ at bro?
Got my hand on some dough
Muddle finger up and rest in peace, uh
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