Verse one: {lil ya}
Goin for it all I want to ball fall
So give me some chips, I gots a
Motherfuckin nine on my hip,
Im pissed, aint nothin shakin
Shits slow like before once again
Im on the come up bro.
Called yella out his house
Man, we got money to make
Scooped tec off infaret
Then we make shit shake, act a donkey
Dressed like junkies, gettin word on the birds
Where they flyin, Im a kill you if you lyin
His cousin gave me the urge to want me take
What you got, give me yo yae, give me yo rings
And yo boulevard watch, why you at take that
Link of yo neck, put it in my bag with the keys
To yo jag, I got to get yo guns out yo fuckin attic
Dont try to test my nuts and make me use the automatic
I rat a tat it, on yo ass daddy make ya duck
When you see a nigga pluck, boo-koo
Bullets, at yo motherfuckin dome,
Bitch, you should have knew you couldnt run from the chrome
Chorus:
Its best ya scram cuz Im a champion
Im dumpin on em
Im actin a motherfuckin donkey on em
Im gettin low down and dirty with the dirty thirty
Ya see Im in yo neighbored hood and my nose dirty
{2x}
Verse two: {tec-9}
We be dumpin on corners like
Nigga what it be like,
Nigga be hangin all night to keep they grip tight
Everybody know Im a fool on the come up move
My baby boy needs new shoes
So what the fuck am I to do
Show a nigga how I act a ass on the trigger
Fully automatic m-11 nigga
So how you figure that Im the nigga to fuck with
Graduated from slangin yae to this dope shit
Twenty dollars a bag is what Im givin
Aks, two twenty threes, momma still livin
Momma tellin me the rents due
Big brother doin five called to tell me
Its all on u, I became a man before my time
Its on my mind, Im now hustlin
To pay bills and still make mine
Now Im caught up in that game livin day for day
I got reasons to leave and reasons to stay
To see the finer things in life
Maybe get myself a wife, and settle down
But all these dope fiends keep comin around
What ya got? could it be they all want to see the
Nigga with the fiyah out that 1-2-3!
Call me the capital, white natural
Bullet lyrical dropper, I run with niggas
Who dont give a fuck and carry choppers
I got to have it daddy, Im on the come up
Label me black connection 2-2-6! we blowin up
How ya dealin rocks, keep them snaps in yo pocket
Cuz I see the po-pos, yall know them hoes
Tryin to keep a nigga down
But Im a hound, I hate to do it to my own kind
But aint love, if you takin mine
Lyin think and behind, say whats up to
My nine milli settin of somethin silly
Now tell me what ya wanna do cuz
Im dumpin on em! bitch!
Third verse: {yella boy}
Im loaded got my double shot now
Its time to rock shop
Im aimin for the dome Im gonna make
Everybody drop the ground
Im a buck em down with them double shots
I bes after a bitch a nigga de knocks upon the front door
Im a play it smooth, then wipe the floor
The door cracked, I kicked it in and let both shoots go
Three niggas bangin up all them clowns hit the floor
I found the cah in a glass trash bag stash
I counts the coke and out the back
I made a swift dash
Hopped in my hoptie headed uptown
I ditched the body so it wouldnt let the shells found
My criminal thought as I got closer to the bus station
No questions ask I call my dog
Lets take a fuckin vacation
I got to run and the money fuck the city blues
Ya bitch!
Chorus {till the end}
