a hundred miles and running, n-gg-s going at the end of me
n-gg-s switching sides, give me nothing like it’s the end of me.
n-gg-s having family, but i know these n-gg-s into me.
pown me, thug it to the motherf-cker sin is me.
i’m a train the topic time down, b-tch, i’m riding in a ‘rarri.
if you don’t like me, than i’m sorry.
i ain’t og, i’m just being me, f-cking pretty clear.
i rap about this sh-t, ’cause i did it.
life don’t change, neither do the game,
n-gg-s getting money, but the rules stay the same.
who i’m gonna sound with, who i wanna ground with?
that’s my only question, n-gg-, see ’em g i’m down with.
cocaine mirrors, cold money guns, every n-gg- i f-ck with with the g i make them bun,
so i never leave the house without my chain on my gut,
got on my old boy gucci so i fresh pearl once.
see, n-gg-, see, i feel like i wanna release, n-gg-,
i got to face earth, you know what i mean?
and then i got nothing to do and get no money
and that, n-gg-, that be a hundred.
that be a hundred with yourself, that be a hundred with the n-gg-s,
a hundred with you, you know what i mean?
man, i got a lot of young n-gg- around me, n-gg-,
and that’s straight of low life family, n-gg-, could kill for each other,
that thing is real.
murder was the case, n-gg-, jump a h–rdal with a race n-gg-, down
then i put it in your face, to the face, on my case, n-gg-,
told my lawyer go to trial, i’m doing it big in the meanwhile.
if i lose, place a riot for me, if i die don’t stay fire for me,
pour on some liquor and get higher for me,
i’m doing this thing for my home boys,
i have it, oh, lord, so surely can avoid.
i came here speaking from my heart for some time around
am i a real rapper or just a n-gg- on lands?
i don’t know, i’m confused, do i suppose to be rich?
you know that hoe ain’t your hoe, she’s your supposed to be b-tch.
no supposed to be clip, i want no allias,
you see ’em g, homie and we don’t franchise.
i get green gas off the whipe -ss, don’t get in that pot
and he get bout time.
hallelujah, bless my shooters, serve my jazle, watch him hit that shooter.
f-ck that rap sh-t, i don’t fit in,
how they f-ck boys, how they fake friends.
streets on fire, plug on gold mode, streets so d-mn dry, i might get a truck load.
f-ck your country, i won’t sign it, labels keep calling me, but i don’t call back.