chapo
Yeah
What's the word
Young Brick Flair in this motherfucker
You know what i'm saying my nigga? (What's the word?)
This just a day in the life
Let mine hang to the right
We brought them things to the fight
Cold chills rang through the night
Run up, we banging on sight
You keep the chains and your ice
We don’t do shit for the fame
Nigga we came for your life
Westside get it brackin
Got pain up in my heart
Got your life up on the dashboard
Little nigga, you asked for it
Big ass .45, knocking shots up off the backboard
Pop a xan and flash forward
It’s nothing to me but a little blood on my sneaks
Get run to your knees in front of your niece
You don’t want it with any one of my g’s
Dump in a trunk, leave you slumped to your seats
Show you my face before I leave your soul to these streets
Got em like “Oh boy, oh Lord”
Mini Van Dan machete waving out the front door
Who want war, you looking at the five six deuce
Drunk driving off the 91
Hope I don’t crash and let a hostage lose
Young and brazy, mama pray that God’ll save me
I’m the undercard but they don’t underpay me
Fiends is itching, know I’m just racing it
There’s money on the corner do you got the heart to chase it
Get off from waiting, pussy
Illuminati want my mind, soul, and my body
Illuminati want my mind, soul, and my body
This just a day in the life
Let mine hang to the right
We brought them things to the fight
Cold chills rang through the night
Run up, we banging on sight
You keep the chains and your ice
We don’t do shit for the fame
Nigga we came for your life
Westside get it brackin
Loony gangsters on the rise
Got a pistol in my lap, got murder in my eyes
What’s the outcome; you’ll see when you come out front
Crowd jump, these regulators mount up
Them bodies count up
I found luck between a pound of the finest in Whitney Houston’s white dress
Her lipstick is a slight mess from the nose snow out the ice chest
Write verses cuz they write checks
Which way I’mma roll the dice next
Who knows if my life next
This the sound of Pirus and the pyrex
Bundle up them dime sacks
Show your bitches where the pipe at
Rearrange it where her spine at, be right back
Slip where the dotted lines at, be careful where you sign that
Killers on the scene, leaning off a fo'
Here to fuck your bitch and letting everybody know
Spitting like you owe me something
Never say I’m better than Pun but I’m the closest one, nigga
Illuminati want my mind, soul, and my body
Illuminati want my mind, soul, and my body
Real gangbanger, y’all stick to hip hop
Moving with the homies keep a .40 over six shot
Rappers love to shit talk but that’s how you get Pac-ed
The dollar, shelves hot for boys trying to be G
This big momma's house, we hiding money in the T.V.s
My granny drove a caddy and my daddy was a TG
My momma told me “baby boy you talk too much”
But it don’t matter cuz I’m always down for backing it up
I’m bout that accurate, that Actavis is not in my cup
I’m on some active shit I don’t need nothing slowing me up
As far as rapping,shit, it ain’t a nigga showing me up
This shit is effortless, for lack of speaking
Thinking of some better shit to do with my time
Like make a million before the world end
And put a baby up inside a pussy nigga girlfriend
If you ain’t a friend to me believe you is a enemy
No in-betweens I’m leaving niggas leaking where the curb end