3 the Hardway lyrics

[Intro: Styles P]
My n*gga Young Roddy
S.P. the Ghost
Jet Life, D-Block
You already know... aight

[Verse 1: Styles P]
n*gga you lookin' at Keyser Söze
Zips on deck, bricks on deck and Rosé (Rosé)
The young Jet, the old G (Yeah)
Spend on smoke what these n*ggas pay for the whole Key (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha)
Lowkey (Low), or highkey
Drop a piano on your head if you try me (Feel that)
Or Young Roddy fly in the Maserati (Fly)
Or the fleet with grow hand for the best look (Best, the best look)
The work move faster then Russell Westbrook (Fast)
Kevin Durant on the dope stamp (Oooh)
My n*ggas potheads, but we the most in (We in)
I ain't the swag champ, I'm the Lo champ
Come and light it up with the Smoke Champ
D-Block, Jet Life, you know both camps
I get it in and I get it out
Pitch ya money to me, I hit it out

[Verse 2: Young Roddy]
I started smokin' heavy cause times was gettin' Harder
Step brother [?], left me a revolver
Welcome to me, city land of the less fortune
Glenwood Apartment AKA the Carter
Uh, where they don't throw [?], they throw crosses
Last name Spalding AKA I'm Ballin'
Us against the world, f*ck them n*ggas, we a problem
So sucka free, sucka n*ggas pay extortion
"Hold On" video had rocks in my pocket
Linked up with DZA, got a plug up that Sour
Hooked up with Styles, now I'm good out in Yonkers
Good in any hood, I don't need no co-signer
My girl on that Molly, me I'm on the Chronic
Tre 1st and D-Block, real n*ggas mobbin'
Bet somebody hammer 'round this b*tch got a body
Went from no bottles into bein' a role model
Owww!
[Verse 3: Smoke Dza]
Righhht
Hit my n*gga Route with the Dour
I been that n*gga since n*ggas to Eddie Bauer
A couple days, I ran through a quarter pounder
Now I'm rolling up some Harlem shake, no Baauer
Smell a stench that will wake the whole crowd up
Smokers Club client, founder
Run around Harlem on some Mayor sh*t
n*gga prob let the AR spit
On the block, he do the Graveyard shift
Stay on it like clockwork
We don't prolong, we pop first
Put him out like he pop percs
Shout out to my dogs
Three way call from behind the wall
My little homies strapped like they goin’ to war
Like f*ck it, mystery go-goin’ get me out in the morn'
Come out with Packs like crack of dawn
Save your profit n*gga, weather the storm, keep hustlin
DZA...