Fresh Home

(That's the way)

(X10)

I'm in a spaceship lookin' like I made it

But I'm on this bait strip with Tennessee and Katie

Whips fully loaded like this G-lock, I told the driver ease up

Bro's hammer might go off over the speed bump

I hit the trap and I piss take, I get why them kids hate

I don't need rap to get my big face

I'm hoppin' out of cribs, I burn bags like it's bin day

Rap tings a bit strange, I see a lot of actresses

I don't want no part, it's embarrassing, it locks, then I shatter it

I was popped down until I balanced it

Total Rollies ragged off his wrist, we can tally it

Thots wanna saddle it, I just want three M's

Ask me how my week went, a whole load of crack deals

Bricks wrapped in nylon, too trappy, I got no chill

Make a **** roadkill then go home and cuddle bae

Ain't goin' back to oatmeal, Wyatt had to take the chase

Forty's on the curb, tap the brakes, hope the tyres grip

Cheats get greased, we ain't throwin' nothin' from the whip

They're tryna link my line to my phone like I'm new to this

Panders ain't qualified, it's armed squad that blocked me in

Bro compromised the spot, I just want that yay' back

Staff lookin' at me mad, I stepped in and paid cash

Smell it like a Cali pack, Rollie gold, trackie black

Should've dragged him out, but I drenched him there where he sat

Could never be a mini me, I done laps for my team

Plain Jane on my left, right touchin' the glee

Could never do me like—, say I'm some mini me

Turn a Q to a ki', all these bands from a fiend

Like nans, got a tin full of sweets

Thirty eight, nine mils, this stolen Jeep ain't cheap

Can't afford how he speaks, could put you on work for me

Risk my life for this P, pushin' white, pebble B

Trap boy doin' laps in between

I put crack in them flats, I send my bitch to the beach

Switchin' lanes, blowin' smoke, hittin' speed

In the trap like a rat and some cheese

Want bread? Send a man to the beach

She said I'm fucked, that's unknown where I be

.38 in my coat, shank tucked in my jeans

Can't slip, that's the life of a G

Bando baby, I came from the streets

And I'll die from the streets, yeah

They're not bad, they just act it

I really make packs flip

Your phones dead, it ain't match-fit

You was out lookin' for a bad B

I was in that green Honda just linkin' fat Ste

Re was a quarter key, two in a Q

I bought in month, I was sellin' weed

But I had the pot frothin', crack, cocaine profit

Really got paid from it

Sent him OT, only right I put a drink on him

Can't lie, I love shottin'

Put it in a pot, lock it

Soft, now it's so solid

Dry it out, the shot it

Shit, I sell it wet if the shots rottin'

Bro came short for the re, so I paid for it

Dropped more weight on him