Dead Homies lyrics

[Intro: Young Chris]
'fficial lord n*gga till he
'fficial lord n*gga till he
'fficial lord n*gga till he
Went to the district dropped two nickels on a n*gga
Then went back in the streets, n*gga played the heater
Got a high class freak, A-1 if I need her
'fficial lord n*gga till he
'fficial lord n*gga till he
'fficial lord n*gga till he
Went to the district dropped two nickels on a n*gga
Then went back in the streets, n*gga played the heater
Got a high class freak, A-1 if I need her

[Verse 1: Young Chris]
Show her how to shoot the medal when she moving through the ghetto
Undertaker with the shovel, leave em under with the devil
I'm a north Philly rebel, no a hustler, never settle
Hitting every target, keep riding, n*gga pedal
Hit em rock, hear them slump, them chumps ain't on my level
Duffel bag to the jeweler, spend a lump sum on my bezel
Show em how a n*gga moving if a n*gga get to shooting
I put this on Larry, motherf*cker we ain't loosing
Semiautomatic clack, hit em high, hit em low
Show them how this sh*t it go, n*ggas tryna get the dough
I'm a product of the street, with the riders with the heat
Lay back, smoke my weed, and just ride up on the beat
Motherf*ckers!
[Chorus]
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie

[Verse 2]
Good shots in the morning, I wake up to the sound
I quickly grab my hammer, b*tch tell me calm down
If they talking beef I quickly serve em like a butler
I'm riding through the city like I own this motherf*cker
They hate the way I roll but these n*ggas can't stop it
Stash cracked open, got this hammer I'll pop it
Son asked me "daddy why you riding with that gun?"
I'm like "These n*ggas hating, tryna kill a n*gga, son"
But you protected, harm you, watch me kill em in a second
Homie turned snitch so I guess it was a lesson
A cold blood line I guess this rich sh*t is ending
He turn 14 I bet my son gon get his Bentley
My daughter get the Ashton, b*tch get the Rolls
The homies Panameras and my mama get the Glow
The Rolex full of ice so I guess time froze
At the dinner [?] so no feelings ain't exposed
On the dead homies
[Chorus]
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie

[Verse 3]
Pull up to the set boy, and I'm finally clean
Ignited on the scene, like a batch of methala
A hot blur on me, and some cold lean
Shoot it out in slow motion with the police
Getting money lately, know that they don't like it
Running up a check, b*tch don't fight it
I do it for my n*ggas went and got indicted
Talking bout that money, no one driving

[Chorus]
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie