Lyrics
(Who the hell is Carlo?)
Yeah
It's the Jackson
Where we at with it?
Let's get it
I'm on Santa Maria, flashin' back to me, Danny and Mia when Rick was alive
Cuz was so bad I believe if he would have lived niggas still would have died
Lucky we was too young to shoot a gun, would have let off a big fifty
It came back with the clip empty same way they left a nigga feelin' inside
Whole hood on my collarbone, knock-knock, ain't nobody home
Servin' knocks, playin' hopscotch, sippin' Wock'-Wock' out a Styrofoam
Glock on me, this a double-decker, junkie with me smoke but he love to toot
Pockets chunky like the checker nut this big four-nickie chunky like the soup
Keep campaign, he got win the race and end up upstate tryna cheat the system
Free Smirk, long live Von, can't even lie, they let these streets hurt for Nipsey
Even Juan know I'm far so gone in the fast lane like a hubcap
Tryna hold on, I don't talk much, certain shit just ain't to be spoke on
Still tryna tame the dog like I gotta potty train it on the pee pad
Wifey piss me off damn near every night, still be tryin' not to go to sleep mad
Turned a whole slab into three halves, sometimes I wish that it was two of me
In the honeycomb with the brewery, all these ice bows, I got a jewelry
Built for a tough but the rims on the car still foreign
Comin' through the gutter, long live my brother, he probably killed yours
Might just have my youngin spin they strip every time I get bored
Know them peoples got a nigga picture top of they clipboards
But I'm built for it, major pain, nigga, I'm the drip lord
Get you chip-a-hoy, make it rain, tell that nigga, "Strip for us"
Livin' in Detroit, might have to take a life before they steal yours
Feel like Scarface-