Letras
More code
More code 2
Iappreciate yall going on this ride wit me
The real niggaz know why i did it
Dont let these niggaz tell you what you should do
Tell like it is
Paint the pictures
Live it how you live
Homie a hard case
Sold 4 zips and think he scarface
Stuntin on the wrong blvd he got his car laced
Yes niggas still get shot dead in broad day
Sensitive thugs still kill you for what his broad say
Still get a level of tension when i roll through
And i dont cook work my kitchen smell like soul food
New thing clean the weapons is in the old school
We was in the mix, you was somewhere on the out post
Mothers dragging sons off the corners in they housecoats
Saying she dont want no drug dealers in her household
She done seen it all smart enough to keep her mouth closed
Poppa was a player gave em fifty at the gouchos
You dont know me dog dont "big bro" me
You aint cut from my cloth i am not your big homie
Funny how the new me still feel like the old me just harder to stay patient
Finish line in sight so my mind is still racing
I lost several parts of me allah wont be replacing
I just make my dua
Thats a double bar but the higher thinkers are fewer
On the rio grande mixing coffee wit khalua
Far off from the night i dropped that pistol in the sewer
Stand up nigga never once i fold
What i bought i sold
Never once i told
Survivors remorse
The street still want my soul
You cant outrun karma dont doubt my reach
Took his talent to miami
Send shooters to south beach
I remember thinking hmm
Lamborghini or ferrari
Cause a hundred thou in twenties have you feeling like a saudi
Shooters get shot
And Gods go to prison
And kings live mundane lives through lack of vision
Ahki
If its in my heart theres nothing you could do to stop me