We, we don't want much We just want what belong to us Man, we ain't greedy, we hustlers, nigga Butch
If I could talk to the old me, I tell him watch these hoes And them niggas gon' rat, delete them numbers out your phone I left Ashland at FCI, met a plug and then got on I could have made my brother rich, that nigga died 'fore I got home
I got the aura of a boss, ask niggas, they know my body I'm on MSNBC talking politics with Ari Ate sardines out the can, my birthdays ain't have a party So apologize for what? I'm too rich to say sorry Wrote a letter to the streets, addressed it whom it may concern Everybody can't go, and that's shit I had to learn I'll be back on my bullshit when the beef get confirmed I lay on a nigga like Katt Williams perm Walked the path of a king, first I saw it in my dreams Now it's happening, ayo, Hit, we got these niggas 'Cause every time I drop, the hood telling me the streets is back again One, two, three
If I could talk to the old me, I tell him watch these hoes And them niggas gon' rat, delete them numbers out your phone I left Ashland at FCI, met a plug and then got on I could have made my brother rich, that nigga died 'fore I got home
Yeah, the streets dead, can't a soul save them Yeah, you just a rapper, that's a bold statement I watched a kingpin lose and that shit fucked with my mind I was looking up to 'em before my faith was in God Yeah, take you around a small town, you get much more First, you cut class, jump off the porch, now you cut dope Identity sealed behind that mask 'cause he's cutthroat She put some in a baggie, some in her purse, I don't trust hoes I usually judge these niggas by the taste of they watch And then the pandemic hit, they started faking me out, yeah I said fuck college, went straight to the block, no witnesses Better chances, guess it's safe at the top because it's lonely, nigga
If I could talk to the old me, I tell him watch these hoes And them niggas gon' rat, delete them numbers out your phone I left Ashland at FCI, met a plug and then got on I could have made my brother rich, that nigga died 'fore I got home
Niggas from the sandbox turn into your rival They watch you put the work in, then they feel entitled Pillow talk and slander, but they don't wanna try you It's about what I can teach you, not what I can buy you What I'm capable of doing is the only thing that scares me I'd have told the old me, "Don't even let them near me" Somethin' 'bout the rush, you just can't get enough of it Name on indictments with niggas you don't hustle with They just love to tell it, I just love to sell it Shit so strong, it's still wrapped and you could smell it Sittin' in the spot with the work and the gun out At the end, true colors always gon' come out Real shit
If I could talk to the old me, I tell him watch these hoes And them niggas gon' rat, delete them numbers out your phone I left Ashland at FCI, met a plug and then got on I could have made my brother rich, that nigga died 'fore I got homeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
