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Niggas know I’m the fucking best, word up! Can’t fuck with me, straight up! You know we getting it, straight up! I stay close to the Baretta Folks that wave toast, know better Gross cheddar, cut it up Throw it in the shredder Hoes sniff lines off of broken mirrors I throw five at your smoke tinted, rented You hope to try to dip it like Emmitt Your image is translucent like a bent ceiling I see you trying to blend in like a chameleon Gun wielding, I’m on the low, I feel shielded But that’s a false sense of fulfillment Debts are paid in the death parade Shots are exchanged from the Escalade My late father’s name in the chest, engraved A pound and three grams With the necklace weighed Man, a character Get clapped up in your Challenger The glock 9’s black with the silencer I’m a bachelor flip pies without the spatula You died in the Valentine massacre Crime ambassador My capturers channel my spirit Letras de cancionesThrough the shrine in Africa I fly past like a time traveler CHORUS It all boils down to that green mama Niggas squeeze llamas Just to seize dollars D’s and Impalas, street scholars Hopping out of V’s with them clean Prada’s Sip pina coladas With a mean goddess We eastsiders, jeans is knotted Niggas don’t want it Like the HIV virus, word up! Wounds and bandages, food and cannabis Money management, advantages, damages The Spanish fans break banisters Gates, and parameters They see us wearing chains and amulets Handle this, evangelist condo in Los Angeles That kind of dough will hold your hand a pimp Once away at my descent, my hair is rich I forever swear to spit that Blair Witch Bare witness to rare shit Stare Benzes like airships You can’t get this pimping out a pamphlet Millionaire hand print from a tan prince The gear you wear get rinsed Buy the tec wit the air vents I caress the wood gear shift You’re weak tomb won’t move me Not a square inch Spit your zucchini tear swift Your CTS, tail spent BBS rim well bend Man of the cloth That bullshit endless talk ran its course Blam fours til you abandoned the fort Got birds like Le Coq Sport at the port Salt water on the yacht floorboard Popping wine cork These are just a crime boss thoughts (CHORUS) Yeah, yeah nigga! East Coast shit! Fuck with me! From Letras Mania