(Marc Boomin, this you?)
Mhm
Marc Boomin, I'm still fuckin' with you, my baby
(Boomin need extras)
I should be with IUR 'cause I'm a dr—, alright
I just drunk a box of, I just, you know we be havin' to warm up
I just drunk a pint, could be with IUR 'cause I'm a Drank God
This rap shit changed my life, I gotta thank God
Before I go to jail, I'm plottin' now on how to break out
Pop up at a nigga door with the Glock, he ordered takeout
I used to sell real pills, but they fake now
Too much pressure on a nigga, I might break down
But when I think about my kids, they motivate me, so I'm straight now
Oh, 'cause I got a couple dollars, so I'm fake now?
They gon' really hate me in four years if they hate now
Two chunks of money, both pockets got me weighed down
Four-five Glock, boom, boom, turn the bass down
Beefin' with the whole city 'cause you only shoot waist down
Hit the nigga in his forehead, he fell face down
Forty racks got me walkin' bow-leg, I get pape' now
Alright, I just ate dinner, I want some cake now
Peezy told me I was gon' come up 'cause I stayed down
Four chains on me now, I'm a lighthouse
Used to drink red and freestyle off the head at the White House
If you ever see me with a bitch, she gettin' piped down
Supercharger on the Hellcat make a whine sound
Slidin' on the first day, fuck lettin' beef die down
This my third OxyContin 30, think I'm high now
You know them 'bows I said I had wet? They dry now
In a S550 Benz, I'm just ridin' 'round
Hit six people in the crowd, I shot five times
Right now, my mouth dry, me and Ray just drunk five lines
I see your name in that paperwork, I got it highlighted
I can't believe them niggas said I told, I am not Johnny
Still ridin' 'round lookin' for that one nigga who shot—
Oh, they said the clubs back open? Somethin' gettin' dropped Friday
Came to the club to spank somethin', I do not party
I'll never steal from my blood, I am not Charlie
At this point in life, fuck everybody, so I'm name droppin'
You say you want a zip? I'm on the way, bro, the 'caine lockin'
Finna start wearin' Girbauds with the strap, they got eight pockets
Dub play, but I spent twelve, it was eight profit
I tell a bitch exactly how it is, bae, I ain't toxic
I'm with the ChoppaBoys, we'll send a nigga to a brain doctor
RayRay got me ridin' with a Drac', I used to hate choppers
Jump out on you with a hundred shots, they like, "Damn, he ain't stoppin'"
Got into a shootout in the hood with a gray Glocky
Stupid nigga thought he had Trish, it was eight Wocky
Tried to charge a hundred for the lines, I gave him eighty dollars
I just poured a four of straight drop in my daughter baby bottle
Yeah, I love my bitch, she my friend and my baby mama
When y'all was walkin' to the store ten deep, I had Dre, Mo, Rada
When a broke nigga talk 'bout what he had, we just change topics
I just made forty racks all pros off some fake Roxies
Yeah, Ghetto Boy shit, nigga
Yeah, this rap shit serious, man, but we still fuck with the R's too
You know what I'm sayin'? We ain't gon' get into that
The ghetto free, bitch, we gon' just keep sayin' it
