Phonetime

Son, I zone, my gun is never on safety I copped the new Jordan's, the white ones on skate key Me, I'm just chillin' Pop, serving my time Got my greens on, these faggots ain't deservin' a shine And yeah, while I'm home you like livin' abroad I heard those crackers dissed you, smack you at the board When 24, dun they did the same to Norman and Lord Heard you cop the silver GS, my nigga you scored Yeah, it's nothin' 'cuz I'm gettin' bread Crack is dead, bitches wanna give me head You's a funny nigga, I just saw Kai in the yard He said, "Holla, when you getta chance, scribe the God" Tell Kai I said what up, and his sister is grown I copped the four-fifth auto, it's pretty with chrome The day I come home, I need a mink and a brand new Mac A few jump offs, some Dom's, (yeah, yeah) and there's beer and it's black I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books I'm in the studio, droppin' 16's wit' hooks I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new kicks I hit the law library, hope to come home soon I just finished up the album, finna drop in June Yeah, yeah, yeah Pop, my little dun gangstas, caught in blood beef with the Kings You know Jarome brotha, my dun I used to creep wit' in Queens And dat's my dun too, so I'ma find out now And have my dogs on the Island, just get on the prawl On the other side of things, I'm tryin' to get released Around my born day, but a nigga keep in beef wit' da beast Fuck the police 'cause all of dem niggas is fake Don't lose your C.R., son, you'll get your open date Dun, I'ma see ya regardless 'cuz I got two violent felony charges And you know your appeal is progress You're my dog, dun And we gon' keep this tight I keep your commissary phat, I'ma keep you right I got the chronic stashed in a coffee carton and kicks Good lookin' for the bitches butt-naked and the flicks And you ain't gotta thank me, real niggas do real things I keep freak hoes, they really do ill things I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's wit' hooks I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin new kicks I hit the law library, hope to come home soon I just finished up the album, finna drop in June (for my girl nigga) Yeah, yeah, yeah I used to be ugly, now these bitches is Medusa And guess what? I made you executive producer Some extra G's, so when you come home you breathe They won't believe to see me come straight home to a V Pigs pressin' me, want autographs for they seeds I gotta C.O. thinkin' that we gon' fuck when I leave Yo, nigga think about this money, fuck them hoes We gonna throw a pound-a weed out, at one the shows Spread it out, in the crowd, see them niggas get wild Capone home, niggas still diggin our style Shit is foul, how these crackers tryin' to keep me confined I gotta visit last week and saw Gremlin Divine Meet Timbo and Ice, got bent and rolled dice Scooped, ridin' loose, then we headed to Post (Son, there's only one minute left) and got some hydro-weed and we had our toast (Son, there's only one minute left, son, I'm ghost) yeah, yeah I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down I'm in jail pumpin iron, son, and readin' books I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's wit' hooks I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new kicks I hit the law library, hope to come home soon I just finished up the album, finna drop in June Yeah, yeah, yeah I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's wit' hooks I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new kicks I hit the law library, hope to come home soon I just finished up the album, finna drop in June Yeah, yeah, yeah