I got places to go, I got people to see
The penitentiary ain't the place for me
No more than you do, not tip me I run up,
squeeze, and pull the hole
I got places to go, got people to see
The penitentiary ain't the place for me
I'm more than you do, not tip me I run up,
squeeze and pull the whole
You mistaken me for somebody
that you should be testin'
You should be stressin',
I'm finna fuckin' teach you a lesson
Rap more on one succession,
emulates the track that I'm blessin'
Smith &
Wess is the weapon,
in case you was guessin'
This gang bus is campin',
it's kept in my bands
Hop again in the end, watch the 22s spin
My who's the perfect ten I got shut up but I
got up and I'm back at it again
Motherfuckers that thought
I wouldn't win
Pretend to be friends, at first you fail
Try, try, try, try again I'm the best,
don't you get it, get it
When I spit it, it's crazy
You love it, admit it
You like that I live it, it's shady
Aftermath in your ass, bitch
If it's not a classic
When it's done, we trash it
Flow, I got it mastered
Stuck and get your ass kick -casted
When messes get drastic,
cracks made out of plastic
Cock it, aim it, blast it,
run nigga, don't stash it
Got places to go, got people to see
The penitentiary ain't the place for me
I'm warning you to not tempt me
I'll run up, squeeze and
pull the hole in you
Got places to go, got people to see
The penitentiary ain't the place for me
I'm warning you to not tempt me
I run up, squeeze,
and put a hole in you
There's a genie in the
bottle of that young
Perrion
I'ma drink till I get to that bitch
And when they gon' introduce
me to the pervs
They gon' listen to my words
And oh, they feel my shit
Picture a perfect picture
Picture me in a pit pack
Picture me start shit
Picture me bustin' my gat
Picture police man,
they ain't got a picture of that
Picture me bein' broke
Picture me smokin' a sack
Picture me comin' up
Pitchin' me rich from back,
pitchin' me blowin' up
Now pitchin' me goin' back to my
momma basement to live shit
Picture that, where I'm from it's a fact
You gotta watch your back,
you wear a vest without a gat
Use a target jack, hustle hard, money stack
Sell that dope, sell that crack, sell that pack
Sell that gat, sell that pussy, call her back
50 cent, too much heat,
man I'm bit, I'm outta here
I got places to go, got people to see
The penitentiary ain't the place for me
I'm more than you do, not tip me I run up,
squeeze and pull the hole in you
I got places to go, got people to see
The penitentiary ain't the place for me
I'm more than you do, not tip me I run up,
squeeze and pull the hole in you
Ha ha, man I ain't going to jail
Not even to visit a nigga
You wanna holla at me, you write me
Matter of fact
You think you got shit at the
Sunset
Boulevard, I'm in the
Montreal
Ride around in one of
Drake
Ferraris, nigga
Oh, matter of fact, I might be in
Detroit
Ride down 8
Mile
Road, you know
In one of the
M -Joints and shit
You heard me?
I got places to go, man
You know?
Shit, you got the map
We finna start printing money
Put it in place on these motherfuckin'
buildings and shit
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
I don't feel like using it
you