Hi hater, hi hater, yeah
Man, I gotta get fly, yeah
Man, I gotta get fly as the open sky
I be vibing in the smoke, got potent in the dope, ride
I got a squad never trip just so hot
Tales of me riding in the OI, can't even explain
How to reign, it's a cold game
Cries to my pops, B-Rock with a gold chain
Eat big, fuck a piece, want the whole thang
That was what was taught by my old mane
I admit, I'm a dog for the greenbacks, rottweiler
Self-made man, never need me a co-pilot
Levitate, but these cats so violent
Hold heat, so my homies with the gold teeth
Past year, I got schooled, bussed some OGs
Told me not to be so flamboyant, sitting lowkey
Checkmate, still everybody know me
Hateful in the springs to the Bokey
Tell 'em all the same thang
Hi hater
Never gon' touch my paper, I'm on my grind
Why you worried 'bout mine?
Tell me why the fuck you worried 'bout mine
If you watching: yeah, hi hater
Never gon' touch my paper, I'm on my grind
Why you worried 'bout mine?
Tell me why the fuck you worried 'bout mine
Look, the grind getting real serious
All the psychedelic stars making me delirious
The rap game is not hearing this, not at all
Radio is giving me a headache, need a Tylenol
Now I'm back, hard hittin' like I was a powder pack
These cats leave a bad taste from the sour patch
Just read about it, tell 'em, "Don't talk, be about it"
Ask my team 'til I DK, where the fuck is TJ?
Hit my phone like, "Cas, what it is?"
On my grind, shit, I'm tryna get rich
The fuck I got time for if it ain't this?
'Cause my life ain't on the line, but the line ain't thick
And I gotta go hard, 'cause it's that or go home
Dad said I've been out on my own
Backpack, sat with this caliber chrome
Pump a fist like I never knew which side I was on
I'm on a race and I still [?]
Hi hater
Never gon' touch my paper, I'm on my grind
Why you worried 'bout mine?
Tell me why the fuck you worried 'bout mine
If you watching: yeah, hi hater
Never gon' touch my paper, I'm on my grind
Why you worried 'bout mine?
Tell me why the fuck you worried 'bout mine
Man, look, I ain't a freak show, but when the beat go, I go off
Show off, I ain't tryna brag, but my flavor
Is the type that could bring a lot of competition wishin'
They wanted to get to stoppin' my paper, man, I got a lot of haters
Couple close friends, but they do me a lot of favors
Sip a lot of drank, but ain't got a lot of chaser
Blow a lot of pure smoke, not a lot of vapor
And I'm on my fucking grind 'til I get what is mine
Yeah, so move your way to the side, I
Keep pushin' 'til the day that I die, you
Keep lookin', get sprayed with the five
And I hate to leave you wasted, but nah
These cats 'round here, they know what my taste like
Said that you the king [?]
Man, I want the ring [?] then I take flight
And this'll be my year, 2010, Super, tell 'em that I'm goin' in
And if you not
Hi hater
Never gon' touch my paper, I'm on my grind
Why you worried 'bout mine?
Tell me why the fuck you worried 'bout mine
If you watching: yeah, hi hater
Never gon' touch my paper, I'm on my grind
Why you worried 'bout mine?
Tell me why the fuck you worried 'bout mine
