Текст песни
Through the cut, with Pab', we gon' bang on 'em
Leeky in the backseat with that chopper, we gon' swang on 'em
And all my drawers be Ralph Lauren
Twenty-three shots to his car, Michael Jordan
Brrt, bah, bah, bah
Mmh, mmh, mmh
Speak them facts, nigga, gang
My gang or no gang, yeah
Tell me what's the problem? We can handle that
Hit up Pab' and Leaky and I guarantee they cancel that
Hah, I guarantee they cancel that
Quando Rondo, nigga
Leeky told me if you love your nigga, love him to the fullest
Don't put your trust up in these bitches, put 'em in the bullets
I told my brother Light that this that life before fame
I could do a hundred years and I still won't change
These other niggas in the streets, they just tryna make a name
He don't want that beef with me 'cause I'ma hit him with the flames
Murder on my mind, you must ain't heard my last song
I was locked up in that cell, readin' 23 of Psalms
He ain't 'bout that lifestyle that he puttin' in them songs
I'm ridin' for my niggas, I told 'em that's right or wrong
Ray Bans, this shit just don't seem right
All my niggas chase bands, we uppin' at the green light
Tell me what it be and we gon' slide on 'em
Hop out on they street and put that fire on 'em
We gon' ride on 'em, nigga we gon' slide on 'em
Leeky in the backseat and he got that big four-five on him
Quit all that flexin', nigga know he ain't with it
Catch his ass down bad, I send one to his fitted
Nigga, ABG, anybody can get it
Nigga, ABG, anybody can get it, yeah
Quit all that flexin', nigga know he ain't ridin'
Nigga say he in the streets but I know that he lyin'
Glock-21, I'ma up seventeen times
Glock-21, I'ma up seventeen times, yeah
I made it off my block, I feel I graduated
I just got a pistol for Christmas, boy, don't get decorated
Never sober, always faded, feelin' that I'm overrated
Mama told me just like this, "You know you were born to be hated"