5 A.M.

Chorus: QB

It's be them real life ghetto shit

Be couple grounds, listen close while **** run it down

Games not to be played, '99 straight chips, hot chicks

We got no time for these dicks

(Push the hot whips)

Burn trees, drink hennecy

When I die you'll remember me

So when I'll die you'll remember me

This be some real life ghetto shit

**** thinkin shit is sweet

But I ain't with too much talkin, I'mma let my heat speak

And don't get caught asleep with some with a freak

Cuz the chicks I deal with give me everything cheap, chief

I hear them talkin, we push the whips and still walkin

Yo this **** done, cousin stick a fork in him

Try to warn him, my little brother and they team they

Had to run up on him

A new asshole, they chon him

These chicks opened up they cheeks, deep note they meat

Whatever, they play for keeps just to keep some fresh feet

The streets, we from the streets, we gotta hold heat

No matter where we go, never know if we got beef

Aiyo, **** on the streets, nobody speaks

But when it's showtime, they on line, che che che che

Listen, **** play your position

You was glisten, when a **** like me had no pot to piss in

Yo I feel you god, this rap life shit is really hard

I spent my money at the bar, but I still be large

Charge cards, your garage for my truck

My cellys off the nuts, yo Cheeks wake the fuck up!

Yo fuck the dumb shit, we spit official slum shit

Yo what the fuck, is that the best a **** come with

I love the night life, a gift to soak my right rhymes

I got a pint of henny backwards and a light dime

And I know that it hurts Cheeks, I love my ****

So my **** come first Cheeks, you feel me son?

Fuck the trips, fuck the whips and exotic women

Let's stack the dough so we can see ya **** out of prison

We miss 'em

Chorus

Aiyo these **** wanna outline us

What's the deal god, they hard to find us

Be prepared to feel my nine bust

Took my brother from me, aiyo you know how deep the slum be

But youse afraid to even come see

Ghetto and grimy, with chicks with Timbs

The streets are dims, the heats on hits

The freak are pimps, the hood livin

Where bummy **** gotta lie to dough

I'm not a pimp, but I still gotta buy them hoes

Take a cold heart jeans, surrounded by the crack heads and dope fiends

The type of no hope seems, life stays in the mix

Rather be judged by twelve, then carried by six

I need the fix

Chicks so intimited, cause I'm not innovative

Hey yo, they mad cuz I made it, I'm glad that they hate it

Blow them away, coin toss, throw her away

Put your clothes on trick, nobody told you to stay, bitch!

Chorus

My hot outta stay drips

Lead the hot outta stay chicks

The shorty named toots push the six

Love to shake her shimmy, seen her one night, me and Bimmy

Aiyo some more she wanna give me?

And you can catch me in the city spinnin

5 A.M., window crack with my teeth grinnin

With the sight, straight livin

While I'm lookin at these pretty women

Crossin the light, they lookin at me

Like this **** winnin, I know they hate me

Chorus