(Reuel, stop playing with these niggas) Sold a hundred 'bows of 'za at the freeway (Skrrt) And double back with a lil' E-way, this a replay Nothin' but muffins, ice, and gas like the Speedway Told my ho to come outside, let's have a three-way (Iced Out Records) Trappin' like it's 2010 on the block with ninety 'scripts Type of nigga that buss a wrist, dog, I barely like the bitch They act out as Christmas trees, Santa Claus, we lightin' shit Diamond kiss and icy wrist, bitch, I got all type of shit Stomach hurtin', ain't drunk lean like three weeks, I need a fix From the 6, I got paper like the Lions, we really rich Caught him lackin' at the game, was off a Xan' when he got blitzed Hundred thousand on me in fives, a half a million when it's all crisp Drive the Cullinan like a striker, drive my Wraith like it's a 'Vette Niggas fake, ain't never step, get your face full of checked I get top when I be sleepin', tryna take me a lil' rest That bitch gushin' in my hand, ain't got no safety or no belt I don't even care 'bout none of this shit, when I get high, just like to pop it Niggas bags got low, it's dry, nothin' but water, oh, I can mop it I don't even talk unless it's money, that's why it's dog shit, every topic I keep dog shit in every pocket and every car come with a rocket You niggas still broke, just like back then Ain't gotta sell dope, the rap check big Take 'em to '09, we was gettin' Act' back then It was gettin' tax back when we had the FAPA stack ten Half the shit they got don't even sell, them niggas pack rigged Before we had the 'za sent by the bale, I had to trap, bitch Thirty rounds of MAC-10s, red Forgis, black Benzes Stuff her 'til she packed in, her muffins made of half-men