.357

Yo Wondu you make this beat?

Ya man it's your boy Press Machine man

A lot of these niggas in the city can't do what they want man, you know what I mean? But...

You know what I mean? I live by shit like that's my code.

My code.

Know what I mean?

I do what the fuck I want in these streets man.

Fucking say what the fuck I want.

You can't tell me shit motherfucker

Yo bullet to the back make a pussy nigga yell

And I had to get this money 'cause I heard it too surreal

Then at the label all alone trying to orchestrate a deal

We was riding past the block we hit the brakes he had to bail

And I come from the field leave a nigga by the hill

And the trappers that got high we was aiming outer space

Smokin' strain, you insane, I ain't feeling on the girl

If he ever try to share it with a nigga he get killed

I come from the trap house, my druggy named Tom

I'm a wizard with this .357 it's a wand

And Pressa get it gone like a Mexican Don

Hit a nigga broad day he was dead by the dawn

In the night get it early yeah mommy used to worry

We was coolin on his block with the same Dirty Harry

It's 350 long and a .357

We was riding on the block and my name ring already

I was cooking up confetti

We got 16 in his belly

We put 6 up in his belly

Yeah don't get me wrong

We put 16 in the semi

And my niggas they so deadly

If them niggas circle 'round we gone get em gone

We riding right or wrong, and ask em what they on

And do the right thing like he get a billion

We focus Adderall and this a Gucci scarf

And free my nigga Jimmy

And Smiley don't even smile no more

I come from the tan more

But I don't mind nor'

My life a movie but nigga need to film more

My opps they super super shaky need to kill more

These niggas broke up in these streets so than what's the trap for

I was trapping up north

And still trying go north

I knew if niggas want more notes then druggies pay more

And the system tie you up like extension cords

You make his flight board, homicide

Bullet to the back make a pussy nigga yell

And I had to get this money 'cause I heard it too surreal

Then at the label all alone trying to orchestrate a deal

We was riding past the block we hit the brakes he had to bail

And I come from the field leave a nigga by the hill

And the trappers that got high we was aiming outer space

Smokin' strain, you insane, I ain't feeling on the girl

If he ever try to share it with a nigga he get killed

I'd keep a deal witcha

My niggas deal witcha

We blow off his whole Mitchell

No Mitchell Ness

And my niggas got birds like the bird nest

And I was on the BMX with my TEC

And it's that Gucci linen

We put some shells up in you

This nigga from Manila

My shooter come and get you

And fuck all them niggas praying on my downfall

And this that Wass Gang ya the outlaw

And we the Men in Black

These bullets real as back

Fucking with recipes

Fuck up the whole lab

And we was Gucci down

Look like we dapper down

And my niggas get you guns take you to Wonderland

We selling bricks and need to lay low

And ask the lil nigga what he bring to the table

And if you niggas ain't bringing to the table

Niggas connected like the cable, one shot leave a nigga fatal

Bullet to the back make a pussy nigga yell

And I had to get this money 'cause I heard it too surreal

Then at the label all alone trying to orchestrate a deal

We was riding past the block we hit the brakes he had to bail

And I come from the field leave a nigga by the hill

And the trappers that got high we was aiming outer space

Smokin' strain, you insane, I ain't feeling on the girl

If he ever try to share it with a nigga he get killed

Yeah, you know how we rocking man, it's your boy Press Machine man

Ain't nobody go harder than me in my city, you feel me?

You feel me, you know what I mean?

We come from the trenches and

A lot of niggas rapping about trenches and

I don't know if it make them feel good, but

It feel good when it's our side having fun on your block, you know what I mean man?

When we was fucking running from shit

You know what I mean, running from the cops and shit, chasing the opp

'Skrt'-ing with no license plate and

All that, man I'd sell shit, trying make a living for our family and

You know what I mean? It's your boy Press Machine man we just trying to get it

Major successful and shit