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lirik lagu ea$y – the 903

(the is the 903)

[verse 1: tx killa]
i’m the illest, i’m the realist, and i’m signing your checks
going through your whole squad asking, “who’s up next?”
trapping one way or another, we still moving the bricks
clown around in my town, hear the uzi click
o.m.g., i’m the o.g., i think you know me
these days, getting paid by the 903
99% of the game below me
d-mn, the top of the hill so lonely
end of the day, sleep inside my house in the hills
laugh in my face at the place and still send me the bill
and speaking of bills, it’s about time for you to duck
got the gat and the will of a man who does not give a f-ck
the sh-t used to get to me, but i’m stronger now (now)
continue making my sh-t and tune out the clowns (clowns)
man, i love these fake friends that’re actually haters
‘cause they fuel the machine that gets me my paper (ya!)

[hook: the 903]
i’m a, real killer, drug dealer, heart stealer
i’m a, young n-gg-; d-ck’s bigger than your dollar figure
f-cking b-tches, getting’ money, mayweather
driving through your hood in a phantom with the black leather
it’s easy, d-mn, it’s too easy
easy, d-mn, it’s too easy
easy, d-mn, it’s too easy
easy, d-mn, it’s too easy

[verse 2: rick stone]
i see you (you), and you see me (me)
but where i come from, staring is a felony
i’ve killed men for less (less), and let ‘em off for worse (worse)
i murdered three piggies in less time than this verse
rick’s the big bad wolf, bark, bark, bark
i’ll suit up and blast your -ss like a young tony stark (boom!)
all the guys i thought was homies really wanna kiss up
while b-tches send me pics, saying, “you can tear this up!”
my mind’s on another plane, i’m the next to alan watts
the only distractions i have in life are drugs and bad thoughts
i know that i’m flying higher, them haters be wearing wires (why?)
i’m just preaching to the choir, ‘cause rick stone’s the messiah (true)
the hate you’re sending me is like a breath of fresh air
b-tches and posers crying, “it’s just not fair!”
become so reclusive, i’m sick of life so completely
what’s the point of life when everything i do is f-ckin easy?

[hook]

[verse 3: progress]
rolling through my hood with the silver 24’s
i got your girl riding shotgun, going real slow
blast the new 903 out the back of the trunk
got the law on my -ss, they can kiss it, pucker up
then i slam on the gas, peel out, motherf-cker
then i pull up on the bank, deal it out, motherf-cker
tell ’em, “put it in the bag,” then i’m out, motherf-cker
don’t give me no lip, i’ll get the steel out, motherf-cker
’cause we raw (raw), we the 903
we got the game on lockdown and we buried the key
tx killa, cold-trilla, super-califragilistic-expi-ali-docilicious, we the realist in this building
rhyme’s sick like it’s getting pneumonia (so sick)
who’s the best? well, i already told ya (we the best)
hate to burst your pathetic little bubble
but you come around us, you just asking for trouble
motherf-cker

[hook]

- the 903

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