Internal Affairs (feat. OT The Real)

Told y'all ****, quit playin' with us, man

The Butcher comin', ****

Fuck y'all **** talkin' 'bout?

Ayo, Daringer, you crazy for this shit, ****

This that Stabbed & Shot 2

It's not even a question, ****

38, what up?

Ain't even done talkin' 'bout, ****

You know **** can't take it when we on it like this

Yo, I sat bitten, my sentence long, name written on prison walls

My bitch took off, my team held it down and my chips was gone

My mental off, it feel like a **** gon' kill a guard

These villain bars, ****, I'm GZA from Liquid Swords

In a 'Vette, New York plates that sit on my bitch's lawn

My connect like Allstate, you can leave with the brick insured

Fuck that boujee shit, we gettin' ours if the kitchen's small

With a blick, of course, a hot plate, a pot, and an extension cord

Before Stabbed & Shot 1, I had a cocaine flow

My cannon talk like Shannon Sharpe on a post-game show

I get a block, make a twin, get a spot and break it in

I'm up enough to have my block doin' 20K a day again, huh

**** won't snatch the crown, nah, I'm back around

All these rappers I slapped around like Floyd vs. Pacquiao

Who you know roll with shooters and flew with a pack of loud?

My neck cooler, so my bitch a cougar like Jackie Brown, huh

Black Sopranos, we a loyal gang

I brought a hoard of 'caine back in the Camry, then got the oil changed

If they stop, you get my lawyer name

Do your boy this favor, you can make triple what your employer pay ya

I heard him speakin' and knew they was burs and leeches

Soon as it turn to beef, and these pussies gon' turn to vegan

First rule, burn somethin', you never return the heater

Get that strap back and have **** singin' like Shirley Caesar

Let's go, ah

Huh, aye yo, livin' the rap life ain't where I got my cash right from

I live the fast life, I ain't have a past like them

I learned if you don't chase bitches, then the cash might come

My bag heavy, yours lighter than my half-white son, huh

You ain't have your stacks right, your act type, dumb

A charity case, you're nothin' but a tax-write bum

Got me wonderin', where you get your advice from?

You're 'round them bitches so much that you act like one, huh

Huh, my Spanish hoes call me Papito

We was the ones up top that knocked CO's in the county

We made gumbo from hot Cheetos

Humble, I came home and got kilos

Y'all bums asked for help and got free clothes

Then turned to alcoholics and got egos

So run in my house with your friends like Casamigos

And I give y'all all shots for cheap, but it's not Tito's

Life is real, you might come up or you might get killed

I'm with my folk, old heads always with the smoke, Cypress Hill

Thirty in a box, was tightly sealed, they heard you like to steal

A few connects done threw some checks on you, you caught a Nike deal

Your favorite rapper fake, and they gon' press him just like the pills

He takes, but won't escape his fate, no matter how high he feels

Got some friends in Hell, but it feels like they right beside me still

Got friends in jail for bodies, and friends with bodies who not in jail

Sad story, if you ain't live this shit, it's mad corny

Mizz had one brick left and he broke it in half for me

It's back on me, wolves is outside, the pack's hungry

Glass up between my driver's seats like cab companies

Player hit the pen' 110, came back husky

Crack custy always ask, "Front me, I'll be back, trust me"

The money's all good till it's bad, and that's ugly

Walkin' past undies, I dap junkies, yeah, my trap loves me

You sat comfy as we starved and suffered

Someone was knockin' hard as fuck, I flushed the almond butter, call the plumber

Stay up and up with all your plugs, you always got each other

Got love for grams like my father's mother