like father, like son

there ain't no love like. like father like son

nigga. yeah

it's filthy with quarter ki's in the kitchen on 'em

tha block is hot but we out here gettin it on 'em

and keep a tool everytime we hit the streets

cause these niggas act a fool and we be quick to put it on 'em

them tear drops homie we so not

the nigga to fuck with cause we will pop

40 cal keep it cocked nigga ready to block

keep a gun a extra clip homie that's how we rock

and like father like son daddy we don't borrow

we stay on the grind homie cause we grind harder

and fuckin with me homie you won't like

you be the next t-shirt

we in ya hood all night

we got birds flyin out and we've allowed the pipes

we do this state to state thing and cheat the price

and rufus came home and i told him to shave

but he was tellin me about them pussy niggas back in the eighties

baby

listen

birdman put me on when i was just eleven

he was my teacher

so i was like fuck the lesson

he was my preacher

so i was like fuck the reverend

my mother cita

she said that i was with the devil

my mother cita

now say that he was sent from heaven

so

i take heed to every single word that he tell me

and i remember what my poppa told me

remember what my poppa told me

young stunna

yeah

i'm out c'here homie pitchin the game

and yes i do the whole thing nigga give me my change

yes we do the same thing out the brand new range

little nigga like his father homie doin his thing

we keep the gun for paper homie aimed and cocked

every nigga in my circle homie ready to pop

we be ridin drop tops that's just how we rock

and i'll be ridin in the phantom through my up town blocks

nigga

alright money on my mind

look i-i-i i hear you niggas wisperin

i say wisperin cause you niggas ain't hollerin bout shit

po' pussy ass niggas gangster and me

look birdman jr fuck the world pops

and we gon keep it movin even if the world stops

stay strapped and laced like girl socks

stay dapped and drapped like a birthday cake

birthdays was the worst days

now we sippin' on louis when we thirsty

ya know

i do believe the moneys cursed me

so i pray to god that the devil dont murk me

uh

little wizzle but you bitches call me first place

and papa taught me paper chase never skirt chase

i put you niggas in the closet in the shirt space

you niggas yellow like sesame street bert's face

worst case scenario

burial

two tone carara like mascara

uh

the g4 take your boy where ever

like father

like son the era

nigga