Letras
You gon' lose a lot of people when you better yourself
It's a cold game
We outside, though
Numbers
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Man, uh
Good job
Numbers
No second impression on first entrance
Hits when I'm swingin' for the fences (gone)
A lot of shit I did I didn't mention
A lot of shit I did for no credit and good intention
A lot of shit I said that deaded friendship, uh
Rappers basic, they lack imagination (uh)
Backwards statements at me
God blessed me for my acts of patience
Roads that's leading home like all the train tracks to stations
Ran through a string of queens, the king is back to aces (back to aces)
A dirty game but I'm an optimist (I know)
When they say it's all the same, I say the opposite
Cook on the chopping block, crook if you choppin' bricks
Put it in reverse 'til we fuckin' first then watchin' flicks
Doin' cocky shit like makin' heat to floppy disks
L.a. Ain't gon' let me rock no ice without a hockey stick (L.A., L.A.)
Big sun and dirty oxygen, ain't no boundaries boxin' him (boxin' him)
And ain't clockin' out or clockin' in (man, stoppin' 'em)
North Face with the rocket in it (ayy, ayy, ayy)
Half a (uh, damn) in my TUMI backpack, 'bout to rock the shit (numbers)
Doin' push-ups, I'm off the grid, clockin' in (man, uh)
Count a half a ticket then I wash hands, pay some bills (keep goin')
I walk in the room and I light it up (uh, light it up)
And I ain't even rock my ice today, it's a cold summer (man, uh)
Lookin' at this trackin' number, makin' sure them loads comin' (damn, check)
You can keep the whole kitchen, nigga, just keep them bowls comin' (man, damn)
Mind on a different mode, blow a hundred casual (uh, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Invest a hundred casual, flip it to a hundred more (man, numbers)
I've been on ground patrol, tryna shake the black and white (check, uh)
Chemist like Al in the kitchen when I whip the, uh (keep going)
Chops in the backseat, drop with the tan seats (uh, man)