Here We Go
Through the hard way nigga
Negative, might be
Nigga Z-Ro
What up dog?
What's crackin', brady?
It's boss hog Kyleon, and I'm fuckin' with the king
We 'bout to drop a fo' in a twenty ounce blue cream
I place the order out in Cali' for the PT
We get money while you niggas still asleep, and uh
It's three in the morning, in the kitchen cooking OZ's
Block to bleed, niggas to feed
If I drop' em on twelve, comin' back 21
It's eighty sippers out the book, I move' em one by one
See my hands is fast, my cook game raw
I don't need no pyrex, gimme a coffee mug jar
And I whip it to the left, whip it to the right
Move it all around 'til they cook it airtight
Let it dry, pop it out the jar, straight to the scale
Wrap it up in plastic, straight to the mail
It's boss hogg Kyleon, nigga Mike D
Bleeds the block 'cause I am the streets, nigga
Here we go
Kyleon and the King of the Ghetto
Nigga we ain't got no love for you hoes
All we tryna do is keep collecting dough
Go get it, and come back, get that white as snow
Candied doors, yeah they open up and close
Run up on us, bitch you won't run up no more
'Cause we will slide yo' bitch ass across the floor, floor, floor
I know y'all rappers can't stand
The fact that I'm back fresh outta jail
That I'm also focused on nothin' but makin' my mail
Ain't got no time to waste
'Cause the rap game is damn near dead
Kyleon and the King of the Ghetto
Came to raise rap from it's deathbed
Every song they play on the radio is bullshit, homie
Them niggas got they blow up, but we got that good shit, homie
Matter of fact you might even overdose
'Cause I've been known to cause blood clots
I should been known to be a killa, but a bitch nigga I never was not
I've always kept it real, even when everybody around me was fake
They don't make 'em like me no more
My kind don't break under pressure
It's death before dishonor, nigga
So that means before a rat, like Mickey Mouse
I'll be another job for the gravedigger
I ain't going back behind the fences with the razors
If I'm locked up in the penitentiary, I can't make no paper
So the last time I went, was the last time I'm ever gon' be in
Instead of a five by six cell and a big brick home, that's what I live in
Here we go
Kyleon and the King of the Ghetto
Nigga we ain't got no love for you hoes
All we tryna do is keep collecting dough
Go get it, and come back, get that white as snow
Candied doors, yeah they open up and close
Run up on us, bitch you won't run up no more
'Cause we will slide yo' bitch ass across the floor, floor, floor
Now every time I ride, I got a pistol on my side
Screwed Up Click until it's over on the Southside
I keep my mind on my money, and my money on my mind
I ain't got no time no play, I'm on a twenty-four hour grind
Haters wanna see me fallin' off of my game
They hatin' 'cause when they see me I'm havin thangs
Dig these blues, if you jack me, I'm jacking you back
24/7 on my clothes, I keep my hand on my strap
See I'm somethin' like a playa, somethin' like a pimp
Gangsta strut on when when I limp like this
Is return of the rapper Slash, the hood fella
Lookin' for a rap to get a groove back like Stella
Still got a sack of that A-1 good yella
With a baby glock, ready to rock up our fellas
Hit me on the celler, ain't a damn thang change
Yeah (you know me) I'm still the drank man and, uh
Here we go
Kyleon and the King of the Ghetto
Nigga we ain't got no love for you hoes
All we tryna do is keep collecting dough
Go get it, and come back, get that white as snow
Candied doors, yeah they open up and close
Run up on us, bitch you won't run up no more
'Cause we will slide yo' bitch ass across the floor, floor, floor
Negative, might be
Nigga Z-Ro
What up dog?
What's crackin', brady?
It's boss hog Kyleon, and I'm fuckin' with the king
We 'bout to drop a fo' in a twenty ounce blue cream
I place the order out in Cali' for the PT
We get money while you niggas still asleep, and uh
It's three in the morning, in the kitchen cooking OZ's
Block to bleed, niggas to feed
If I drop' em on twelve, comin' back 21
It's eighty sippers out the book, I move' em one by one
See my hands is fast, my cook game raw
I don't need no pyrex, gimme a coffee mug jar
And I whip it to the left, whip it to the right
Move it all around 'til they cook it airtight
Let it dry, pop it out the jar, straight to the scale
Wrap it up in plastic, straight to the mail
It's boss hogg Kyleon, nigga Mike D
Bleeds the block 'cause I am the streets, nigga
Here we go
Kyleon and the King of the Ghetto
Nigga we ain't got no love for you hoes
All we tryna do is keep collecting dough
Go get it, and come back, get that white as snow
Candied doors, yeah they open up and close
Run up on us, bitch you won't run up no more
'Cause we will slide yo' bitch ass across the floor, floor, floor
I know y'all rappers can't stand
The fact that I'm back fresh outta jail
That I'm also focused on nothin' but makin' my mail
Ain't got no time to waste
'Cause the rap game is damn near dead
Kyleon and the King of the Ghetto
Came to raise rap from it's deathbed
Every song they play on the radio is bullshit, homie
Them niggas got they blow up, but we got that good shit, homie
Matter of fact you might even overdose
'Cause I've been known to cause blood clots
I should been known to be a killa, but a bitch nigga I never was not
I've always kept it real, even when everybody around me was fake
They don't make 'em like me no more
My kind don't break under pressure
It's death before dishonor, nigga
So that means before a rat, like Mickey Mouse
I'll be another job for the gravedigger
I ain't going back behind the fences with the razors
If I'm locked up in the penitentiary, I can't make no paper
So the last time I went, was the last time I'm ever gon' be in
Instead of a five by six cell and a big brick home, that's what I live in
Here we go
Kyleon and the King of the Ghetto
Nigga we ain't got no love for you hoes
All we tryna do is keep collecting dough
Go get it, and come back, get that white as snow
Candied doors, yeah they open up and close
Run up on us, bitch you won't run up no more
'Cause we will slide yo' bitch ass across the floor, floor, floor
Now every time I ride, I got a pistol on my side
Screwed Up Click until it's over on the Southside
I keep my mind on my money, and my money on my mind
I ain't got no time no play, I'm on a twenty-four hour grind
Haters wanna see me fallin' off of my game
They hatin' 'cause when they see me I'm havin thangs
Dig these blues, if you jack me, I'm jacking you back
24/7 on my clothes, I keep my hand on my strap
See I'm somethin' like a playa, somethin' like a pimp
Gangsta strut on when when I limp like this
Is return of the rapper Slash, the hood fella
Lookin' for a rap to get a groove back like Stella
Still got a sack of that A-1 good yella
With a baby glock, ready to rock up our fellas
Hit me on the celler, ain't a damn thang change
Yeah (you know me) I'm still the drank man and, uh
Here we go
Kyleon and the King of the Ghetto
Nigga we ain't got no love for you hoes
All we tryna do is keep collecting dough
Go get it, and come back, get that white as snow
Candied doors, yeah they open up and close
Run up on us, bitch you won't run up no more
'Cause we will slide yo' bitch ass across the floor, floor, floor
Credits
Writer(s): Keyshia M. Cole, Kevin Lamont Randolph, Sean Fenton, Deondre Darrelle Collins
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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