Buck 50
CashMoneyAp
Young nigga straight out the trenches
Could tell I been through it all (Yeah)
I knew my life changed, I seen Chico lay on that floor (Yeah)
The night my brother died, through out messages, took a tour
When I scrolled up, I seen Chic' say "We gon' ball" (Forever)
That's how I came up with it, bitches know what's up with it (Yeah)
Niggas never fucked with us, niggas, we don't fuck with 'em
Voice of the trenches, I swear the people gon' feel me (Yeah, I know)
I swear to God it's only right I show the real me (Let's get it)
Fuck bein' humble, time to talk my shit (Yeah)
You know BM 850? I'ma cop that whip
Two man, passenger with me, he 'bout to smoke his zip
And we don't argue over bitches
Cause they all got clips, you feel me?
A buck fifty, you niggas is politickin'
Only time that I'm worried is when a dollar go missin'
I'm the man now, bet you niggas don't understand now
I'm from the 'jects, I know how to break a gram down
Arab in the kitchen, I watched how to cook a brick up
You gotta know yourself and I wasn't ready to sit up
Young nigga, big heart, big world, big sharks
If you lose yourself while you in the trenches, you get dogged
It's the summer, catch a nigga, indictment with eight chains
All them niggas say they tough, but they never put in no pain
Always kept it buck fifty, know the streets fuckin' with me
Real recognize real and none of you fuckin' with me
If niggas want it, they can get it, I'ma put that shit in order
My uncle hatin' on me, I'm really feelin' like Porter
Older niggas talkin' crazy, I'm really fuckin' they daughters
How you feelin', lil' nigga? I'm really feelin' like Porter
Any time, get the dice, I don't chill with rats or mice
Any nigga wanna battle, that nigga better be nice
They all love me, I'm the man, bitches look better on the 'Gram
How you likin' on my shit and then say that you got a man?
You know summertime in Harlem I'm comin' to make your block hot
Crusin' 'round these streets, I'm comin' through in a drop-top
Comin' through the east, I be froze but make the spot hot
I told my little mans he better not kiss on no thot-thot
Yeah, I kept it a buck fifty, nigga
Yeah, I know the streets fuckin' with me, nigga
Yeah, Harlem, what's up? (Let's do it)
I know the streets fuckin' with me, what's up? (Huh)
Young nigga straight out the trenches
Could tell I been through it all (Yeah)
I knew my life changed, I seen Chico lay on that floor (Yeah)
The night my brother died, through out messages, took a tour
When I scrolled up, I seen Chic' say "We gon' ball" (Forever)
That's how I came up with it, bitches know what's up with it (Yeah)
Niggas never fucked with us, niggas, we don't fuck with 'em
Voice of the trenches, I swear the people gon' feel me (Yeah, I know)
I swear to God it's only right I show the real me (Let's get it)
Fuck bein' humble, time to talk my shit (Yeah)
You know BM 850? I'ma cop that whip
Two man, passenger with me, he 'bout to smoke his zip
And we don't argue over bitches
Cause they all got clips, you feel me?
A buck fifty, you niggas is politickin'
Only time that I'm worried is when a dollar go missin'
I'm the man now, bet you niggas don't understand now
I'm from the 'jects, I know how to break a gram down
Arab in the kitchen, I watched how to cook a brick up
You gotta know yourself and I wasn't ready to sit up
Young nigga, big heart, big world, big sharks
If you lose yourself while you in the trenches, you get dogged
It's the summer, catch a nigga, indictment with eight chains
All them niggas say they tough, but they never put in no pain
Always kept it buck fifty, know the streets fuckin' with me
Real recognize real and none of you fuckin' with me
If niggas want it, they can get it, I'ma put that shit in order
My uncle hatin' on me, I'm really feelin' like Porter
Older niggas talkin' crazy, I'm really fuckin' they daughters
How you feelin', lil' nigga? I'm really feelin' like Porter
Any time, get the dice, I don't chill with rats or mice
Any nigga wanna battle, that nigga better be nice
They all love me, I'm the man, bitches look better on the 'Gram
How you likin' on my shit and then say that you got a man?
You know summertime in Harlem I'm comin' to make your block hot
Crusin' 'round these streets, I'm comin' through in a drop-top
Comin' through the east, I be froze but make the spot hot
I told my little mans he better not kiss on no thot-thot
Yeah, I kept it a buck fifty, nigga
Yeah, I know the streets fuckin' with me, nigga
Yeah, Harlem, what's up? (Let's do it)
I know the streets fuckin' with me, what's up? (Huh)
Credits
Writer(s): Alex Christian Jean Petit, Terrence Anthony Reaves
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.