Letras
"1, 2, and 3"
Yo, let's do it
... we gon' do this one
Let the beat ride for a minute though
Will {?} in the house from the town
FaceMob in this bitch, 'bout to tear shit down
Uh-huh, yeah, there it is
Yeah
Still the, truth in the game ain't a damn thing changed
Prone to tote heat up and then shoot flames
Double the O.G. of a deuce thug thang
Bitches who know me know how I do dames
Still, fuckin with James we roll in this shit hard
I locked up the South, he locked the 5th Ward
Loaded and cocked, I'm known to be a block bleeder
Known to get paper and I ain't fin' to stop neither
I got {?} drive Porsches and shit
Ranch got horses, golf courses and shit
Eat shrimp steak crab raw oysters and shit
And still fuck around with all my boys in the bricks
International nigga, I been in and out the states
Kingston, Brazil, bitches feedin me grapes
I can, cut it and bake, all I need is some soda, a plate
A microwave, Pyrex and a cake
You can get it how you want it, what I'm spittin is free
I don't need to hold in court what I can hold in the streets
Niggaz know how I was raised so ain't no question these
Consequences you gon' face when niggaz fuckin with me
There it is
One for the niggaz wanna cross me up
Two for the bitches wanna toss me up
Three for the people tryin to get my mail
Wanna send me to jail so they can lock me up
Four for the hoes who wanna block my shine
Five for the snitch who went and dropped that dime
Six for the suckers who ain't got no game
That's a God damn shame, that's why he hatin on mine
From the North to the South I don't need no passes
You bitches get out of line, I'ma bleed yo' asses
Look man, I ain't the huffin puffin type
I'ma put that pistol in your motherfuckin life
Mayor {?} call my crib, I be gettin them greens
Fuckin the finest hoes that can fit in some jeans