(RichMade)
Yeah
Better watch the way you're speaking
Two straps, bring another, make a threesome
Long clip on the bottom and it's decent
Your old works, **** got one on the recent
Yeah, I got the receipts
Hollow got bangers, droppin' every week
Got it poppin', she droppin' with relief
At the top, it's just us and Lil Reese
Yeah, no one does it like man
Knuckles on my left, Rizzy, that's my right hand
Says he's in the streets, you should keep it quiet, fam
Crocodile teeth, watch it, they might bite man
**** got me paranoid
Hollow got the chips, I could get him saveloyed
Yeah, clocked your little strategies
Fuckin' little boy
Yeah, we get the money, takin' 10 percent
****, watch your temper 'cause **** only represent
Got that muscle but **** wanna test the strength
Landlord and I'm only here to get the rent
Yeah, they always try talk smack in songs
Might slap him, might start smackin' dons
Lake Placid, yeah, came back in strong
Wrong bredda, **** got the splashin' wrong
Bread, big business, few lumps
Game soon fuck up, give me few months
She's shocked, I got Kimmy too stumped
Pussy wetter, swimmin' through spunk
Get me two trunks
Thoughts of the bread that might get me through lunch
Yeah, they just left a dude slumped
My belly fatter, gettin' too plump
Murder sheet
Shack of demons, we got pliers
Outside (Bow, bow), shots fired
Only the family, my block's biased
You ain't gettin' rich, so stop tryin'
I told H when he was in The States to bring us back a switch
Put it on them blicks and everybody gettin' hit
Everybody gettin' swished, turn him into cheese
They ain't lyin' when they tell you that I'm turnin' up these streets
I'm a real-life gangster, they're just gangster when they tweak
Realest in this shit, and I'm stampin' it like feet
Half a brick of buj, whole slab of grease
Red-skinned Portugese layin' on me while I sleep
I just bust up, and I got credit with them killers like I touch up
Raise a ring or two bust when I was locked up
We put 'em down any time them **** fucked up
Smith & Wesson, big Berettas and we Glocked up
Light's green, turn you smithereens
Ain't no in-between, it's this side or no side
.45 hit your head back, make you nosedive
And I get at a ****'s neck like a clothesline
And if I spin your block, I'll take that up in no time
And I ain't heard about your works, but you know mine
Bullet holes, stab wounds, pack crimes, my old crimes
I was on the bloody run from '05 to '09
Keep my mouth closed tight, I ain't speakin' to them people
Won't wipe your state clean, nah, never make it equal
Put an end to your story, there won't ever be a sequel
I know what we do is wrong like Freeway and Beanie Sigel
My team for the bread, your team fragile and feeble
Crack pipes, needles
Cali by the pound, I came up with Sour Diesel
That's my only job and I'll be slangin' like it's legal
Used to be my darg now I see you when I see you
**** cross that line and I get evil, I go sick like the mumps and the measles
Ain't no trickin' when I got it, I just pull it up and treat you
Same place I'm standin' be the same place I leave you, that's real
Murder sheet
Shack of demons, we got pliers
Outside (Bow, bow), shots fired
Only the family, my block's biased
You ain't gettin' rich, so stop tryin'
We got pliers
(Bow, bow) Shots fired
Only the family, my block's biased
You ain't gettin' rich, so stop tryin'

Writer(s): Adam Brown, Tiny Boost & Nathaniel Thompson.