Hell or High Water lyrics

[Verse: Ransom]
Look how We made it n*gga
Amazing liquor mixed with Asian dinners
Famous spitters , 'member the losers always gon' blame the winners , heinous sinners
Working for nothing made you bitter look the boss will never
Pay you enough to be his neighbor n*gga
Same agenda , that brother soft , what's his name and gender
Lame intender , insane offender injure your main contender
Scared for nothing , some n*ggas never really shared nothing
Here cousin , bags on the scale just hit the tare button
Tears coming hurt n*ggas head on the tears but in
Tear something , buck fifty a n*gga , that's ear to ear cutting
Air something , shoot up the venue , got all your peers ducking
Fear nothing , b*tch ass n*ggas got all these queers blushing
I smell your fear throughout the hemisphere
I pillage your village , save all the women and children
Make sure no men is spared , that stench is where the bullet sent
You there, we all live in this hell , so don't you get this sh*t twisted
Cause we got central air , everybody is depressed in need some of mental care
But never been in prison when someone you love sent you there
Yeah , god bless the brave stranger, displayed anger
Buried you six feet and you still in grave danger

[Verse: Flee Lord]
My hood a max prison, with crack pitchin' and the gat spittin'
Whole family livin' off of black women
It's a fact you spat fishin' I sit back relax twistin'
If it ain't a V12 my n*ggas laugh at that engine (Uh)
Used to microwave an eighth but now I like to play it safe
My lordie eat with a razor like he writin' on your face
Prayin' sheddin' tears, my mommas heaven near
Old flicks of the clique and them n*ggas never there
Flee and Ran' tappin' in see fam have to win
We the grand champions in the van packed with Jim's
All this guest-starrin', pull up in the best foreign
With a childhood friend that's dodgin' all the fed warrants
Lord Mobb Flee I'm enjoying the works
I blow the sour in the sky for all my lords in the dirt
Yo, I blow the sour in the sky for all my lords in the dirt
[Verse: Rome Streetz]
I put my plight in the pen jot it on the page then I made paper
Used to pump poison in the projects sellin' death to nature
Now all my projects poison Streetz done got his name up
Still it's f*ck the police, Trump and the legislator
Still live by the code I listen and no talk unless it's major
Not signed to majors this all independent
Still in cahoots with wild yutes that's out tryna rob your ring and pendant
Want it all now cause in the streets it ain't no pension
More concerned with the cashapp than a f*ckin' twitter mention
Got a thing for semi-automatic gats with clip extensions
This is razor blade rap spittin' with a vengeance
My life behind these bars care less how you judge the sentence
Blowin' weed to the sky that's a thugs repentance
Blood on the hundreds and dubs that I stuff in my denims

[Verse: Eto]
Autistic - dumb smart, god gifted from jump start
Y'all missed it, ask O-Dog with the young heart
Still a menace who in defense to feel offended
If I ever had to offer my hand, you will attend it
If so, the foot soldier help the regiment grow
With no handouts, earned his lot the veterans owe
A New York minute you only get a second to blow
We on different time, direct em' to the heavens below
His fear of losing is greater than the excitement of winning
Vice is suspension, spent his whole life in this prison
No room to brag, whos his dad? I can assist him
Or you could spank him, pick poise and wisest religion
Uh yeah, I won't talk to you how your b*tches did
But I only respect a man who made initiatives
It won't get out of hand if it did
Cause my shooters home dancin' they know we into this
[Verse: Rigz]
Look, ayo, business don fees
Send em' to kill em', who said the Taurus cheap?
While short-minded n*ggas make music to give me long sleep
I wrote this on my off-week, yo I sell work and stand sharp cause it's silence I'm spittin' sh*t to my heartbeat
Clause language, through these corners where sh*t be dangerous
The twenty-five is sold and bodies made n*ggas famous
The industry too lame, f*ck who you group with, you thirst to group pic', male groupies I should give y'all a group name (Ha)
The smack here how I directed I'm not to cut it
They cravin' next three-in-one sh*t, the shooters love it
f*ck it, I got purposeful goals, so from the fiends I must stash what I make and do it under your nose
Hit your moustache with it blood drenching his clothes
You got fears of being you I ain't living with those
Too many frauds flash cash but they never make it last
Cause they good with they closet having more in it then they stash
Stupid. (It's real stupid man, 'f*ck outta here)