Give 'Em Hell (feat. Merk, MoneyM!ll$, Blasé, & Mickey Matta)
Do you choose to die or rot in a prison cell?
Only few will live to tell
When they arrive, we wish them well
But if they want fire, we give 'em hell
When the block is hot, the cool kids sweat they ass off
Summertime I was barefooted on the asphalt
Southwest and Catclaw, running into buildings
Where I'm from only way of making millions is a scratch-off
My niggas penny-pinching
If they catch a case on the paper chase
Shit, I don't see'em any different
Nah, they just reacting to the tension
When the heat hit the street, the whole city is a kitchen
Flame out the glock
It claim bodies like a coroner
She saying all I talk about is paper and that I'm boring her
My gang partner smoke'ya the pump off in your cornea
His main broad a local, the jump off is a foreigner
I'm riding like life ain't nothing but pistols, bitches and hindsight
4-way Seventh Street holding the pen, still don't know what I'd write
If I could do it over again still do just what I like
Last kingdom Aethel big killa death proof BOW!
Do you choose to die or rot in a prison cell?
Only few will live to tell
When they arrive, we wish them well
But if they want fire, we give 'em hell
Kick back relax and let the paint drip
Nikes on my feet, I gotta stay crisp
9 Double M it's Slim I alway stay with
Whole team can push out pounds, we like to stay fit
Stay there, don't come close we'll close case you
Leave no cases get smoked in rotation
So dangerous, hold up this hoe banging
And really I just wanna know what the hell y'all was thinking
Trying to make a lot and turn it into a lot more
When they gon' learn, we ain't playing with these folks
Bitch, I'm a problem, you a goddamn joke
They gonna run it back like it's crack what I wrote
Swear that these raps hit the back of your nose
Swear that this nine ain't gon miss when it blow
I'm back in this hoe, I know they wish I was still gone
They just mad that I wouldn't put them on, but you know huh?
Do you choose to die or rot in a prison cell?
Only few will live to tell
When they arrive, we wish them well
But if they want fire, we give 'em hell
Wild wild west where the shit get crazy
4-way made me
4-bar baby
Only few will live to tell
When they arrive, we wish them well
But if they want fire, we give 'em hell
When the block is hot, the cool kids sweat they ass off
Summertime I was barefooted on the asphalt
Southwest and Catclaw, running into buildings
Where I'm from only way of making millions is a scratch-off
My niggas penny-pinching
If they catch a case on the paper chase
Shit, I don't see'em any different
Nah, they just reacting to the tension
When the heat hit the street, the whole city is a kitchen
Flame out the glock
It claim bodies like a coroner
She saying all I talk about is paper and that I'm boring her
My gang partner smoke'ya the pump off in your cornea
His main broad a local, the jump off is a foreigner
I'm riding like life ain't nothing but pistols, bitches and hindsight
4-way Seventh Street holding the pen, still don't know what I'd write
If I could do it over again still do just what I like
Last kingdom Aethel big killa death proof BOW!
Do you choose to die or rot in a prison cell?
Only few will live to tell
When they arrive, we wish them well
But if they want fire, we give 'em hell
Kick back relax and let the paint drip
Nikes on my feet, I gotta stay crisp
9 Double M it's Slim I alway stay with
Whole team can push out pounds, we like to stay fit
Stay there, don't come close we'll close case you
Leave no cases get smoked in rotation
So dangerous, hold up this hoe banging
And really I just wanna know what the hell y'all was thinking
Trying to make a lot and turn it into a lot more
When they gon' learn, we ain't playing with these folks
Bitch, I'm a problem, you a goddamn joke
They gonna run it back like it's crack what I wrote
Swear that these raps hit the back of your nose
Swear that this nine ain't gon miss when it blow
I'm back in this hoe, I know they wish I was still gone
They just mad that I wouldn't put them on, but you know huh?
Do you choose to die or rot in a prison cell?
Only few will live to tell
When they arrive, we wish them well
But if they want fire, we give 'em hell
Wild wild west where the shit get crazy
4-way made me
4-bar baby
Credits
Writer(s): Brandon Kinney, Ben Daniel
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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