Outro

We ain't them bad guys they say that we are
A lot of bruddas want my shoes, they'll never make it this far
I see snakes in the grass, but I'm a lion in this ting
He was talkin' hard and now his mum's cryin' in this ting
Yo, I've been smokin' weed 'til I feel them feelings go
A lot of people 'round me, so why do I still feel alone?
I ran my money up so high, these days I can't keep it low
I used to see right through the lies, now I don't even know

I'm hearin' all them rappers sayin', "Stay down 'til you make it"
And preachin' silly shit like, "Grind 'til you shine"
But in reality most people in life been grindin' for time
And life don't never improve, it's like we grind to survive
My first deal was for half a mill', at the time that was fine
But next time I need a ten when I go sign on the line
What you been doin' for your hands? 'Cause I'm providin' for mine
The same man that used to plug me, I'm consignin' a nine

I've been thinkin' 'bout Saint-Tropez, the third of July
Story of my life, he speak, and I ain't heard of the guy
Yo them man there think bout hoes when I've got murder on mind
Free Melo, free B.A., they're my surgical guys
Now I don't care about the old days, who was runnin' the ends
'Cause they ain't do it like we done it man, them bruddas pretend
If you disrespect, we're comin', facts, it doesn't depend
I bust my neck down, my wrist down and flooded the ends

Joe just bought a full pack, I bet he's comin' again
Them man got plain Rollies, these days that's nothin' to Fred
Every six months I pay a Rollie cover in rent
I done a grow view, got nicked for it then done one again
Yo, they wanna talk but there's nothin' I can say to them
Why they call him Gucci when his funeral at H&M?
Cappin' on the net, that's some typical guys
Man can drill you on the streets or with these lyrics of mine

It was big fat racks a brudda had in my dreams
But I didn't know where to find 'em, like my dad in my teens
Yeah, we all suffer from something 'round here, but don't happen to sneeze
Man got sick of bein' broke and called that trappin' disease
Yeah, I've got girls flyin' from L.A., they're packin' for weeks
Ten-hour trips to fly across the world and go back on their knees
Had the plain Rollie yesterday, I'm back on the freeze
Bro's on his last three, goin' for Category D

Life sentence, that's Category A
We never had shit back in the day, but still miss back in the day
Girl, you like me or you like me 'cause the fact that I'm paid?
I used to know, but now I can't 'cause all these racks in the way
Nah, we ain't the same if you've been slapped in your face
Or done funny shit with feds to avoid catchin' a case
You know it's war on the road, a man got clipped down on-
Corn in his neck, that was awfully close

Yo, they see what I do, they go copy after
Got my youngin shaving heads, guess he's a proper barber
Heat the nine up in the water then it's lockin' faster
Fredo stays with them bits, I'm like some Tropicana
They've been tryna drill me out but tell them niggas to stop
'Cause I don't reply to no drillers that ain't killin' their opps
Blaze niggas up, know we do that for sure
S- the car like he's 2Pac Shakur



Credits
Writer(s): Marvin William Bailey, Samraj Singh Heer
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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