Hall of Fame (feat. Sam & Veeze)

Aye, how you feelin', Face?

**** that ran away from home, we ran from dealin' phase

Started rappin', tryna stack up on a million, Ray

Never knew we had to live amongst a million fakes

And honestly, I can't feel my face, money motivate

Money come with hate

Let her ride with the stars, she ain't need no wraith

I can't pass a piss test, I been sippin' drank

Damn, bitch, is you crazy, why you keep callin' me?

She ain't don't want none, she can't get all of me

Don't come with no pape' if you ain't get all of it

Mind state, George Bush, I'm tryna get the oil, yeah

What the fuck you sippin', ****? Put some more in that

I can't tell you 'bout the mall, man, I had to order that

Two Ks, Key and Kell, you know I want all of that

Tell me how to lead the game, I'm a fucking quarterback

One thing I can never do is argue the truth

I'll break it down for you, but it's harder than school

Need a Hublot and a two-door and a Harley do too

If I let you **** tell it, I'll be partly the fool

**** turn they back on me, that was part of the crews

When you turned your back on me, I wasn't hardly confused

Never turn my back on you, that was part of the rules

The world'll be fucked up if I did what you do

I got lots of ravioli, I got that from the crew

I got racks, yeah, they on me, she jumped right in the mood

I stood by the deep end and jumped right in the pool

I can still pull to the trenches day and night with the goon

You gotta mix the soda, throw it back

Play my song, blow a rack

****'s broke, they can say what they want, ain't holdin' back

I was broke, man, swear I hated that

Ain't goin' back, she was bad, but that ain't shit

Cut her off, no goin' back

Monkey on my back 'cause I be trappin' in the Bay

Send a lifeguard, your bitch got caught in the wave

I don't smile a lot, the clip like a smirk on the K

Don't compare me to these ****, that's a smack in the face

Been doin' this since back in the day

I don't know nothing 'bout basic

Same lil' bitch you fuckin' right wanna fuck me, think I made it

All these **** wanna be my sons, I kill they ass like Caiman

Yeah, we write on paperwork, but ****, it ain't no statement

I show a **** how to dress the white girl up, I ain't the Wayans'

I hit bomboclaat with thirty shots like I'm Jamaican

Who ya'll **** drip with choppers on us, wavy navy