30 mag the same color as Bernie Mac
For 30 clams I let 'em squeeze then burn your bag
I pull it back then let it scream it go RRAAAT
Then search your bag, you take a breath and then collapse
And it's a wrap, put your face in the dirt
The whole town'll walk around with your face on a shirt
Pussy, and ain't shit pos but death 'cause these youngins ride for the ride and niggas die for respect
Somebody sign me a check 'cause I'm way too nice
I don't write it I just recite it, you and I connect
I done won and lost fights, hustled all night
Posted on the corner, serving smokers hard white
Niggas alright, but they ain't real enough
My niggas is all nice, that's why niggas feelin' us
Lord, please have mercy on me
Niggas wanna see me laying in that grave, undertaker throwing dirt up on me
Just like the rap, shit ain't working for me
But now my name pop, hatin' ass niggas putting curses on me
Praying I die, I pray to the sky
On my knees, thing on my side, while I pray to my God
Whole squad on tape bro
Spending all they days cold
In that jail cell stressin' why I'm on the same road
Everyday the same clothes, that's why I make the product flip
But I don't really trust a nigga, I done did a lot of shit
But now I'm sick and tired of it
Livin' like I'm livin' on this dough route
I'd rather go out, just like my father did
So I tell niggas suck my dick
'cause you do me the same way that Al Pote did Mitch
So size ya Tony, most niggas is phonies
So keep your eyes wide and watch who you call yo homies
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
