Play The Streets 4

I still slide through the bits and check the people I love

I don't rock with everyone but there's some people I does

That in-house shit, I don't get too deep into that stuff

I'm tryna walk inside the Bentley store and leave with that truck

See, now I over-stand why they call it trap and I'm stuck

Type of bread I'm tryna have, you couldn't see me by luck

Who woulda thought it'd be this music shit keeping man up?

I came home, in my feelings for a week then manned up

Shit got real, your boy got jammed up

Got me tryna pattern weed before we got banged up

We been cooling for a sec, they got my block amped up

Bro just outside on your block with a pole, camped up

I've been tryna shout these labels for the backing I need

But they don't make no offers, they just send me back to the streets

I tried this, I tried that, I don't know what to try next

Told management, "Might quit while I'm ahead like Nines said"

Anything just to see the team benefit

Even times I feel the play might go left, I still went with it

Even though I knew he fucked my money up, I still give him it

Treat it like your own even though the beef's inherited

When I see the young bulls, I understand they're low-key

'Cause you woulda got smoked by a sixteen year old me

All I need's the right dinger and my spinner

Boy, I got all types of dinner, I play the streets, Mike Skinner

I can't spend no more paper on rap

I got kids that need things, I can't justify that

And the hood's a war zone like Iraq

One slip and it's back to cheese and onion baps

It's always either drugs or waps

And giving love and energy to things that will never love you back

Getting out the hood is still a dream

Little bro got the glizz on him with a beam

And he ain't gonna care that he still a teen

They never say a thing like Mr Bean

I'm thinking 'bout the trap like I miss the fiends

Put the chip in the Rizla and just add a little pinch of green

I keep pouring Henny and I know how that's gonna seem

Embarrassed when we're praying 'cause I know I ain't on my deen

Bro, I'm still tryna dodge the feds like I owe them P's

And there's certain man that's dodging me that I hope to see

I got some new corn, I don't know who to give it to

They sent the food up like they work for Deliveroo

Free all my hittas whose bid is life

If we could rerun this, they woulda did it twice

All that haraam paper, it ain't for keeps

You're probably gonna die or go jail when you play the streets

Free all my hittas whose bid is life

If we could rerun this, they woulda did it twice

All that haraam paper, it ain't for keeps

You're probably gonna die or go jail when you play the streets