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swerv - jim jones lyrics

[intro: jim jones]
you gotta catch that beat
you know, the beat, you gotta come
you gotta merge with that sh*t
you gotta merge with that sh*t, like we been takin’—

[verse 1: jim jones]
trips to the chi’ way before they put the ‘raq in it (let’s talk about it)
that ball in my hand way before i put a pack in it
it was a good neighborhood way before they put the crack in it (i remember)
now i’m at dice games, in the bank, got like a hundred stacks in it, n*gga
there’s only the truth that i can spit (facts)
so may the lord strike me down if there was a coupe that i ain’t whip (amen)
let’s talk about it (uh*huh)
‘causе yeah, we do the jеts too (uh*huh)
got my team jumpin’ on them sh*ts just like the jets do (trust that)
lookin’ at nuttso like these n*ggas ain’t rappin’ right (uh*uh)
talk about movies, but i swear these n*ggas ain’t actin’ right
if my n*ggas do a movie then these n*ggas ain’t comin’ back to life
i drop a bag on your head then that includes the whole taxing price (what’s the tab, n*gga?)
they catch a body, then i’ma catch a flight (gone, n*gga)
that’s what i’m on, yo, that’s the facts of life
these b*tches start like tubi with them bbl booties
i started with a whole pie then we would sell ’em as cuties (break that down)
we outside, n*gga, what the f*ck we need a office for? (we need a office for)
we could do the yachts too, we could dock them sh*ts off the shore (we can do all that sh*t)
i could tell you the price ain’t the same thing what it cost before (i’m getting money)
and i’m still pourin’ champagne for all my n*ggas that i lost at war
[interlude: g herbo]
swerve
ayy, capo, what up?
let’s get it
you a street n*gga, i’m a street n*gga too, just like you
uh, yeah

[verse 2: g herbo]
made n*ggas get off they asses, i’m who taught ’em how to trap
turn a quarter to a half, then switch to grass, got tired of crack (know that)
if it’s static, put on all black masks, go handle that (uh*huh)
if you savage, give him a face shot, don’t k!ll him behind his back (nah)
it’s a lot of n*ggas sayin’ sl!ck sh*t behind my back (uh*huh)
they don’t say much when we face up, i don’t think ’bout ’em, n*ggas ain’t tough
no handshakes, n*ggas can’t touch me, i don’t fake kick it, get away from me
barely havin’ conversations if the topic ain’t money
this time might go ‘rari truck, get a new urus, spend eight hundred
go hard every day for all them lonely nights i ain’t had nothing
now i’m doing my thing, i’m on top of the food chain (yeah)
might be best get you a lane
ar*15 get to sprayin’ like the shooter got mood swings, uh

- jim jones lyrics

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