you know about a criminal,
Ain't got an album com in'
and I'm still gettin' with it
Rappin' on some shit sound like
If it ain't about a dollar
from that conversation, save me
Tucked in the Louisville, got the 380s
Should I get the black beamer
All these petty shots that they
Actin' like a female, jealous like a lady
Lyr ics comin' out blazin'
like it came straight from Hades
with some motherfuckin' scabies
That's how we do it on the west coast,
on that wicked -wicked -wicked
We keep on rappin' like this
to these motherfuckin' southsiders
Yeah H -E -G -E -N -G, baby, baby
From the land of the coast
Thought we'd stop, hell nah,
Versus Snoop, Pocket, Drake,
Keepin' eyes on the prize
Homies squeak the bus text
Like they never heard a 25
Homie pulled the trigger,
But we tryin' to break the
Time to break the motherfuckin' mold,
Focus on makin' dollar bills,
really this is how I feel
What you gonna gain from that
Now you're doin' time by yourself
So take a second, think about that
I ain't trying to preach to my brass
I'm just telling you facts
of how it goes down in the streets
Better think twice, homie,
Running up on this high -powered
You just might lose it for your life
We earn stripes on the streets