secondz a way

shit done changed

the strip got bigger

to make my ends i got the wheel and the trigger

i get my swerve on with the 80 p liquor

the liquor bring out the nigga in this nigga

got me huntin' with my musket

barred down with substance

bringin' my ruckus to the rival fuckas in rival clusters

i'm still givin' birth to perfect joints

i keep it steady

still mixin' up with skeet sours

i like them heavy

heavy'll put a little bass in your voice

yamps choice

no rolls royce but i keep it moist

i keep it saucy

ya bossy bitch talkin' that costly shit

bossy bitch think she too flossy to trip

i'm first muthafuckin' degree

not your average

i'll have your boulevard hoppin'

poppin' off when a baller pack a package of suckin'

fuck you fuckin' up duck

stuck like chuck

now

now getcha dome in the trunk

as we donut

i dump

i seen too many moons

took the minds of too many bufoons

fools with no clues that love to watch my aura glisten

they still don't listen

i.i got pot that's hot to trot

can't stop

won't stop

i got lynch hung in my backseat sniffin' for cops

i receipts of tweed purchase

medical purpose

write off at text time

so ya'll go home

light the smoke

it's relax time

now i apologize for smoke on my mind

i been workin' hard and i got to unwind

about the j.o.a. stayin' in my brain

but i'm seconds away from goin' insane

now i need to lift away

now you niggas know i come sick like a lunatic

man

they must be high cuz they really don't know who they fuckin' with

i used to have them all bombed out

drink alize wine

then rhyme and smoke tweeds till we dropped out

i got the chop out

no doubt

cuz if it ain't about rappin'

gunplay's gon' happen

cuz i'm tappin' at yo' window

off that indo

more sacs than santana

better check your antenna on your radio or your stereo or your video

cuz i'm not that pretty

but in the bedroom i'm critical

you got your chance

now use

hit you with the loaded album

coutesty of siccmade music

evidently you got something against me

don't you tempt me

minty smells of the 20 sac of indo

killafornia's best

player haters die a slow death

slow death

i don't wear no chuck taylors and don't sag my pants

but i still lift the switch and make this 64 dance

more niggas with me now than i had in the hood

and they down for whatever and that's all to the good

wish you would test my technique and heart

nigga what?

nigga

fuck that

bitch nigga what? baby

duck!

what you wanna do now

ya bleedin' from the floor

nigga wanted beef

now he wants beef no more

that's how i'm coming 9-6

bitch

rich and mad

hoes in bikinis

rag lambroginis

overseer runnin' mad streets

creepers with beepers and stash spots for glocks

and under car escobar style

buck wild

you been there

you know the terrain

niggas go insane

tryin' to get the green

i'm just surviving on the streets with my peeps

and i'm livin' for the day i catch a punk on the creep

yeah