Key: C major•
Verse 1
I ain't gonna sit up here and lie and say I'm finished with the album
Cuz if anybody know I ain't finished,
you know I ain't finished
But niggas say, yo you gotta do a mixtape son,
niggas hitting me, texting me, emailing
I'm like, for what?
Go in son!
Yeah, yo, the game's getting old,
shorty's going up top
Coming home a little bigger
with waves and parole
The dope's in the hole,
the fiends all lined up
Everybody
Trey pound down or nine'd up
Money short,
no tellin' where you could wind up
Gangs of
New
York, lotta soft niggas signed up
Nothin' like the feelin'
you get when you bust a
K
I could do back -to -back bullets,
won't touch a
Trey
Me,
Gus, and
K, rude pimpin'
And a big shipment of somethin'
that tastes different
Hollow tips turn grown
men back into infants
Two trap houses,
Greensboro and
Winston
Some is behind the wall,
other niggas is fenced in
Couple of them just touched down,
that just did ten
Cut ain't bad enough for staples,
you get stitched in
Lucky that the doctor was
even able to fix him
Yeah, what the fuck did you tell me?
Red and green stripe or the capital
LV
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