(Verse 1: Game)
n*gga pull up, hop out the cutlass, tell a n*gga f*ck this
I ain’t toleratin no f*ck sh*t
Wifey at the halfway house, with a b*tch with her ass hanging halfway out
I ain't bout no games n*gga, that's my name
Gold grill with a blunt hanging halfway out
n*gga can’t tell me sh*t unless he got hits and then he can tell me how them hash weigh out
Crib laid out like a pimp here, your b*tch there on a bed laid out
n*gga talkin that f*ck sh*t, we just spread out
Boy get yo whole motherf*cking hood K’d out
I was born in the CP, Tommy on my lap
If it’s cheese in that ho you can find me in the trap
But when it’s snap, give a f*ck about a rap
Yuck me and Buck back, 7-11 on the crack
See a Cadillac? Get the f*ck up outta there
Grand Theft Auto on a b*tch ass n*gga
Getting 3 up, bring a truck up outta that
Then pop bottles, let me hit that n*gga
Roll blunts the size of this mac
I’m in love with the kush, ain’t givin that back, trill n*gga
Smoke till my lungs collapse
Pass out with a 5th of that cognac
Real n*ggas gon' recognize this G sh*t
Don’t come at me with no peace sh*t
That peace sh*t, that was ‘89, I get yo ass hit with 89’s
Motherf*cker fore the cops get down, n*gga J’s coming off
Drive off with the K’s running off
Fly home, tuck my sons into bed
Kiss my daughter on the head and leave a note by her motherf*cking bed
(Hook)
Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
Papa was a rolling stone, my son
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
(Verse 2: Young Buck)
Ain’t sh*t changed with me n*gga
Been around the world with the same AK
Same clip with mo' bodies on it
Then hook yo' hood with this beef sh*t
Looking around but nobody want it
n*ggas know what’s up with Buck
Get a couple murder cases coming up
Shoot first!
Molly popping, that’s young n*ggas
All they really wanna do now is so guns
Moving on and I’m gone
Papa got a brand new home
And I’m not looking back, I’m just cooking crack
Until I get back where I belong
My b*tch leave brains all on my seat
But these n*ggas’ blood all on my hands
Been riding up and down these streets
f*cking as many n*ggas I can
Shotgun shell still in my leg
Got a few racks still on my head
Gotta stay strapped now, they handicapped now
f*ck n*ggas who’s stealing my bread
Had to buy a graveyard for just trappers
Ain’t got a funeral home for you rappers
Know I can play the role with you actors
When we gon' get enough to come after
Now send it n*gga, I’m going Kendrick n*gga
You can start the sh*t but I’mma end it n*gga
If you getting money better spend it n*gga
This real life, no pretending n*gga
Back at it again, fresh out the pen
Remember back then? They had to let me in
And ya'll n*ggas talking bout cashing out
I need a trash bag to put the cash in
(Hook)
(Verse 3: Papoose)
They told me papa was a rolling stone
Like Mick Jagger keep b*tches round they whips, Charlie hold it holmes
You ain’t a poet 'cus you wrote a poem
I am lyrically until these spirits really higher on the totem pole
I get the cheese, cheddar mozzarella
American, moderate, jack, swizz, feta, mars the prevalone
I bring a n*gga down limb by limb
Blood sweat tears molecules flesh then show my chromosomes
Jim star, raise it for yo' dome
With a hole in yo' face shot just like Macaulay Culkin Home Alone
Tote the chrome and spark blast with a dark mask, tryna pop trash, blowing at yo motor home
I’m on LeBron, catch you b*tchin on my block
I’mma knock it out the park
Babe Ruth, go and throw it go
I grab his bones squeeze 3, brought him like DD, you PC no ET in fully home
Guantanamo… all of ya'll f*cked up
Young Buck, roll 'em holmes
Have a glass of murder, have 'em grab the burner
I’m so nice, can see these rappers cry so loaners
My way fowl, don’t convert you have a jazz converter
You need bigger hard drives, I’mma crash yo server
I was raised with the killers in a class of burglars
I’ve been the truth in the booth go and ask the jugger
This is annihilation, you n*ggas violating, won’t die hating, getting shots like immunization
I’m sending vibrations that could shake a wise nation
And if the devil was a liar then you gon die satan
You ever disrespect my brother soldiers
You gon' see a bunch of Rolls with tints, throw em in the cellar
Blood on my hands so blood money low
You got blood on yo' hands 'cus you a cutthroat
(Hook)