[Verse1]
On the front line for all my n*gga , bustin’ .5
When it’s time ima die for my n*ggas
If I can’t f*ck with you we rolling against you
Ain none against you Im just a lil bigger
Slaughter type n*gga get smoked like a swisher
No bullet proof vest go help Ima hit you
Get ripped down the middle like tissue
Sending my n*ggas to get you
b*tch n*gga you ain official
Stick blowing like a whistle
b*tch I got it out the gristle
On the roof with a missile
Flag tied around my pistol
I’m on some gutta sh*t I about already had enough of it
Time to start bussin’ sh*t ambulance rushin’
I keep a pistol know I ain trusting sh*t
(I’m hood b*tch!)
[Verse2]
I keep a pistol I ain trusting sh*t
If I’m missing then you know you got lucky b*tch
Know I’m really on that f*ckery
When It’s time [?] back in that mercury
We hit the block and it’s emergency
Smoking gas I’m on my nervous sh*t
I just smoke it for my nerves and sh*t
Lean and riding on the curb and sh*t
And my fingers they so sticky from pouring this
Step wrong then the n*gga start blowing it
Keep flagging you get robbed just for showing it
In that jam n*ggas singing like Jodeci
Diamonds flashing boy I know that they notice me
n*ggas hating faking you can’t step close to me
Can’t go like that where I keep that b*tch close to me
b*tch I live up to my name who you supposed to be
Ain gotta fight before he go blow for me
If I got that waco head put yo trust in me
Screaming my name boy these b*tches go nuts for me
I got the city boy you know that it’s plain to see
Polo riding and he got it right next to me
Ain no catch me lacking keep a big tech on me
On the streets posted just like its sesame
100 shots to your top just for testing me
If you want it then I’ll let yo ass rest in peace
A lot of n*ggas say that they see the best in me
With my arm on that pot with the recipe
Lord please keep these demons away from me
Pull up on me you won’t leave better stay for me
Leaving you dead on the streets better pray for you
b*tch I got it come on you can shop with me
I be high as hell smoking on broccoli
I’m a traffic riding n*gga ain no stopping me
And they love me boy I see why they copying me
Run up on me then yo ass will get rocked to sleep
Codeine on me boy you know that they watching me
Hop out the jeep in the middle of the street
Everybody gun and we letting of heat
My charger rolling up from the back seat
I got a beam on my gun if you think I can’t see
You fogged in that’s whatever with me
Catch you lacking make it happen on me
Don’t start dissing you get zipped up for free
They blue flagging and they rolling with me
Big ass guns I can’t hold it on me
Was a couple of n*ggas that folded on me
But it’s cool Ima keep it so street
When I see him n*gga I swear to god he deceased
I’m on that bull with my troops I can’t see
Bullet holes in his Tee R.I.P
Tell all my locs [?]
See Ima start taking off I don’t need no safety break it off
Hit em with the pole not playing golf
Say one word to the locs that’ll get you off
n*ggas catching bullets call they ass Randy Moss
Run up on em with a it .30 hanging out
All of my n*ggas and they twisting they fingers now
Tripping n*gga you get hung like a hanging nail
(b*tch)
(I’m hood)
(I’m hood)