RESOLUTIONS, Pt. 2
Level Up
Spin the block
This time
Brooklyn
See this year
Ya was in the way
Homie say he real
But I feel he ain't
And I don't really care
If he
Feel a way
Truck full of weight
Send it rilla way
Corner stone of the corner store
I done Turned bodega
Into real estate
I feel the hate but
My respect
I gotta take it
So fuck complacent
I was patient
Shoe box money turned to
Million dollar savings
I'm the voice for the block
I'm speaking for the pavement
Streets they know I'm famous
That's why I Gotta keep an
Open razor
And leaking open faces
It can lead to open cases
Bout time we upgraded
I'm sturdy but live
The coke heaven sent
On God the work was divine
Streets is like the jail phone
You'll get murdered for time
We get surgical
I'm purging with mine
Still dumping steel hitting
Fuck regrets
Nothing feel different
A running meal ticket
Cuzzo still bidding
Money somersault flipping
I was dumping off pigeon's
Is you loyal to the plug or
You running off wit it
Im pure and authentic
Sticks be in da back seat
Bitch in da front though
She fuck like I'm an athlete
Back to the script bro
Yeah i got scripts though
Can't dodge coins
Like it's crypto
Shots open out the van
Store footage
Got it on the cam
In a hour yo
It's all up on the gram
For sure a 100 grand
It's gon cost you
A coffins in ya plans
Grabba and the paper
I'm just smoking
On ya man's
The whole hood
Gon feed off this
I don't need y'all
I Put hands and feet on shit
I can see ya pissed
Cause they see all drip
In designer
Euro stepping
In my dior kicks
Talking Lean or sniff
I could make a g off
Fresh off the shelf
Like it's sea moss
Say less I heard
They gotta see more
Cuz I don't deal with peons
Half moon on the techs
I got dnd on
Don't disturb
Goats preferred
Quotes is slurred
Gumbo potent herb
You need a flow
Say the word
Hit me on my phone
It's still rip Meg
I gotta hold my own
Yeah it's death before dishonor
Gotta hold my chrome
On my soul
I can't fuck with no ratón
Fuck em
By any means
Gotta get the gwap
We lick a shot
Hit a opp
Felt triggered
So the triggers pop
In broad day
We gon spin the block
Yellow tape, white chalk and
Shell casings by the chicken spot
Spin the block
This time
Brooklyn
See this year
Ya was in the way
Homie say he real
But I feel he ain't
And I don't really care
If he
Feel a way
Truck full of weight
Send it rilla way
Corner stone of the corner store
I done Turned bodega
Into real estate
I feel the hate but
My respect
I gotta take it
So fuck complacent
I was patient
Shoe box money turned to
Million dollar savings
I'm the voice for the block
I'm speaking for the pavement
Streets they know I'm famous
That's why I Gotta keep an
Open razor
And leaking open faces
It can lead to open cases
Bout time we upgraded
I'm sturdy but live
The coke heaven sent
On God the work was divine
Streets is like the jail phone
You'll get murdered for time
We get surgical
I'm purging with mine
Still dumping steel hitting
Fuck regrets
Nothing feel different
A running meal ticket
Cuzzo still bidding
Money somersault flipping
I was dumping off pigeon's
Is you loyal to the plug or
You running off wit it
Im pure and authentic
Sticks be in da back seat
Bitch in da front though
She fuck like I'm an athlete
Back to the script bro
Yeah i got scripts though
Can't dodge coins
Like it's crypto
Shots open out the van
Store footage
Got it on the cam
In a hour yo
It's all up on the gram
For sure a 100 grand
It's gon cost you
A coffins in ya plans
Grabba and the paper
I'm just smoking
On ya man's
The whole hood
Gon feed off this
I don't need y'all
I Put hands and feet on shit
I can see ya pissed
Cause they see all drip
In designer
Euro stepping
In my dior kicks
Talking Lean or sniff
I could make a g off
Fresh off the shelf
Like it's sea moss
Say less I heard
They gotta see more
Cuz I don't deal with peons
Half moon on the techs
I got dnd on
Don't disturb
Goats preferred
Quotes is slurred
Gumbo potent herb
You need a flow
Say the word
Hit me on my phone
It's still rip Meg
I gotta hold my own
Yeah it's death before dishonor
Gotta hold my chrome
On my soul
I can't fuck with no ratón
Fuck em
By any means
Gotta get the gwap
We lick a shot
Hit a opp
Felt triggered
So the triggers pop
In broad day
We gon spin the block
Yellow tape, white chalk and
Shell casings by the chicken spot
Credits
Writer(s): Ernesto Cortes
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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