Play My Position
This that flow
That make ya
Soul burn slow
While nailed to a cross
From the land of the lost
Paid the cost
While the price is still high
To be a boss
In the Bronx
Whipping up enough pies
To be the source
Like Ross
Everyday hustling
Everyday you was just fronting
Paying G's a fee
To claim the set
Taking you to the cleaners
Like a suit getting pressed
While I was a likkle yute
With the tool and the vest
Got no military background
But I'm a vet
Made man
The way I carry myself
Command respect
Get hit with a hollow
I don't write diss raps
No subliminal's
Just funerals and dirt naps
Stack up the money
Get cat from ya honey
Beast on the track
Like a were wolf hungry
Once you in the cross-heirs
Ain't no use for running
Hoody on like the reaper
You won't even see it coming
I was made in the trenches
Slang caine on them benches
I gotta play my position
Long days in that kitchen
Cold years in that prison
I gotta play my position
Right
I got it on my own
Word to the block
I'm a play my position
From the bottom
I got it on my own
Word to the block
I'm a play my position
I'm outside just living the life
I'm just praying
I don't gotta pull this
Trigger tonight
For the bro
Sent a kite
That's how I'm penning advice
Broke scales
I couldn't get my
Measurements right
See From Peppa's
Down to Lefferts
I was setting a price
Kept a metal for sure
When you meddle with white
No prints on this glock
Shit got me checking it twice
We just spotted the opp
With no respect for his life
We let off
Yo the bullets tear his car door
Pronto
Next video they'll be
Rolling him in fronto
Raised in da bando
Now I'm laid in a condo
No loyalty over money
You get stained with a hollow
My name be a hunnit
Off caine
We was dumb rich
Pops over dosed
But it's dope what his son did
Word to my block
We gon flood it
All night
I Played my position
Til the sun lit
Fuck it
I was made in the trenches
Slang caine on them benches
I gotta play my position
Long days in that kitchen
Cold years in that prison
I gotta play my position
Right
I got it on my own
Word to the block
I'm a play my position
From the bottom
I got it on my own
Word to the block
I'm a play my position
That make ya
Soul burn slow
While nailed to a cross
From the land of the lost
Paid the cost
While the price is still high
To be a boss
In the Bronx
Whipping up enough pies
To be the source
Like Ross
Everyday hustling
Everyday you was just fronting
Paying G's a fee
To claim the set
Taking you to the cleaners
Like a suit getting pressed
While I was a likkle yute
With the tool and the vest
Got no military background
But I'm a vet
Made man
The way I carry myself
Command respect
Get hit with a hollow
I don't write diss raps
No subliminal's
Just funerals and dirt naps
Stack up the money
Get cat from ya honey
Beast on the track
Like a were wolf hungry
Once you in the cross-heirs
Ain't no use for running
Hoody on like the reaper
You won't even see it coming
I was made in the trenches
Slang caine on them benches
I gotta play my position
Long days in that kitchen
Cold years in that prison
I gotta play my position
Right
I got it on my own
Word to the block
I'm a play my position
From the bottom
I got it on my own
Word to the block
I'm a play my position
I'm outside just living the life
I'm just praying
I don't gotta pull this
Trigger tonight
For the bro
Sent a kite
That's how I'm penning advice
Broke scales
I couldn't get my
Measurements right
See From Peppa's
Down to Lefferts
I was setting a price
Kept a metal for sure
When you meddle with white
No prints on this glock
Shit got me checking it twice
We just spotted the opp
With no respect for his life
We let off
Yo the bullets tear his car door
Pronto
Next video they'll be
Rolling him in fronto
Raised in da bando
Now I'm laid in a condo
No loyalty over money
You get stained with a hollow
My name be a hunnit
Off caine
We was dumb rich
Pops over dosed
But it's dope what his son did
Word to my block
We gon flood it
All night
I Played my position
Til the sun lit
Fuck it
I was made in the trenches
Slang caine on them benches
I gotta play my position
Long days in that kitchen
Cold years in that prison
I gotta play my position
Right
I got it on my own
Word to the block
I'm a play my position
From the bottom
I got it on my own
Word to the block
I'm a play my position
Credits
Writer(s): Carl Urban, Ernesto Cortes
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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