Perfect Timing

Your bloodline, bro
Your bloodline is rare

"SHO"

Everybody ain't got that, that, that,
That Thompson bloodline, bro

You a go getta
Your bloodline, bro

You was bred for this shit
You just took this shit to a whole 'nother level

Trap house jam packed like Chick-fil-A

You can bring your own chicken and get your fish fillet

No lie, I seen my pops cook 4 of 'em
When he was done That nigga needed another forearm

Damn, You gon' do that while your kid in a stroller

He cut the TV on and passed the remote controller
Bust that packed the house, filled with a odor
Cut that stove on and went by Polar

All I heard was screamin' and yellin', cussin' and fussing
I guess he thought he wasn't gon' bring back nothin

Then I heard, thank you, Lord, it just need more soda
You know that step on take a little longer to jump over

They thinkin' I'm too young to know what's really goin' on
My auntie stealin' from my mama and ain't comin' home
She ride her bike to come and get it like Lance Armstrong
She gon' jack the whole block, you know her arm strong

I ain't got nothin' to prove if you ain't got nothin' to lose
Ain't bring nothin' to school, I just came with my tool
And a pocket full of money, I'm here to show off my shoes
But in elementary, I just came for the food

No room for a report cards, just bills on the fridge
Opened up the icebox, looked like the food was hid

Fuck some pork chops, granny, I'm finna eat off the block
You ever seen what a fiend'll do to eat off a rock

Let a nigga touch my chain, he gon' die for it
I know this shit sound crazy, but I'ma die for it
Sho, you gotta be smart with the depending on you
Gon have to burry me like a G before it's pickin' on me

Judge just gave a nigga fifty like he Tay-K
He ain't even kill the nigga, he ain't do the race
I'm tryna tell my nigga, slow down, you gotta do the pace
The lawyer paid, we goin' to trial, we gon' fight the case

The Camp Boss when I move, niggas comin' with me
I'm in the club lookin' like I got Drummond with me
Them must be basketball players look how them niggas gettin' it
Naw we just fuckin' the same bitches my niggas the witness

Shawty say we can fuck around, but not exclusively
Her fault I guess she ain't gon' get no bags or shoes from me
She suck my dick thirty minutes, she don't get to rest
And if she stop before I'm done, she gotta get dressed

But goddamn Sho, you said you wouldn't take so long
Hoe, send me your address so I can Uber you home
Two-three zips sold when I answer my phone
Oh Coach Temple, this what you meant by get my ass in a zone?

Fuck it I'm on defense, I'm all for beef shit
You started a war and gave a state, my nigga, that ain't street shit
I catch you fuckin' on the rat, I look at you different
If you talk, then you snitch, it ain't no difference

We don't talk to police, we just drop retrain fee
Let my lawyer talk for me, Sho gon' talk for the streets
You can tell if he ungrateful if he talk when he eat
You got a mouth full, nigga don't worry about how I feast

We in them trenches and aint comin' out, stop talkin' to us
We stop goin' to church it feel like pastor talkin' to us
Niggas talk a lot of shit until they walkin' to us
On Slauson Ave. with the gangstas, I ain't no fuckin' tourist



Credits
Writer(s): Raphael Thompson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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