No Hook

Man y'all know what the fuck it was before it even started

2 times

RuffWayy on gang

The real Jumpman 23 shit

Young ****

I was born to go and get the cake

Eighteen years old, I was born to make a way

Lil' ****

But there's plenty shit stay on my plate

Every night I gotta grind and see a better day

Ain't nobody perfect but I just wanna be great

Chew a Perc, and sip the lean, and then I meditate

Twist the leaf, and light the green, and now I’m outer space

Ain't no more room in my circle, shit, I'm outta space

Ain't no remorse for a pussy if he tryna play

Famous gon' leave him where he stay soon as he squeeze the K

And that’s some for you gotta go bitch, you gon' meet the grave

Just praying for my dawg, hopin' that he beat the case

Look at the blunt when I hit it, like this shit might be laced

The way I’m strapped up with them dicks they say he might be gay

Kill all 6 with the stick and this bitch can slice your waist

Or use the .44 bulldog when this bitch bite your face

Uh

I’m like you must wanna lose your life today

Load up them pistols with extendos, then remove the license plate

Whip down with the cutta, make it studder, you die right away

Cancel any witness, just so I won’t have to fight the case

Gamble with your life, don’t die tonight, yeah, that’s the price you pay

Sippin' on that lean, lookin' mean, ain't got shit nice to say

Uh

Uh

I said, I'm sipping on that lean, lookin' mean, ain't got shit nice to say

Growin up in that south, I had to go out and hustle

Shon, my brother, I love him, came from the same struggle

I walk some long miles me and famous just tryna bubble

I cry so many nights, I shed some tears can fill a puddle

My heart turned cold like the freezer swear the shit made me tougher

Ain't tryna go back to trappin' on the block, servin' butter

Yeah, I got people countin' on me, I can’t let 'em suffer

It’s only right I grind hard to take care of my mother

Uh

Cutta with a stomach, where the bottom at

Got a lot of money, and I really know ain't how to act

Don’t cross that line, pussy bitch, we gotta lotta straps

Ain't hitting at your legs, bitch, we focused on where your collar at

Bitch you go need a pamper since your ass been talking shit

I'ma turn you into a dancer, glock burn like a pot of grits

Know I ain't got no handles but I don’t know how to miss

They go think I had a camera how I’m shootin' at yo shit