调：G# minor•
Verse 1
Yeah,
Staten
Long
Island
stand up,
Brick
I start this rhyme with how
got steel in my grip, but I ain't talking
I'm talkin' mikes,
niggas stealin' my shit
Then try to act like they
ain't feelin' my shit
Now if we talkin' about ones,
Russell
Simmons
I'll be talkin' in tongues,
And all them niggas you brung,
punk, my clan don't
G#m
G#m
Sleep, son, I put that on each one
Be cool until the heat, cunt,
these pussies might eat some
Nigga, this is not pop music
Why would you have that
Glock and not use it?
How could you hear this joy
and not lose it?
You're stupid, you need to shop in
Cupid to get love for this music
Iodine
Find me in the cut, if not,
probably find me in the slut
If I'm
Miami or
Dutch, that means my plans
Back with the stuff,
a lot of back talking, backing it up
Now I like being a man,
I like weeding my hands I like my
G's in advance,
ain't got the game right
Me no lie, y 'all killers pop
Now I like being a man,
G's in advance,
but y 'all don't understand
ain't got the game right
Me no lie, and y 'all killers pop
shit and can't fight
Back in the zone, no backbone
niggas don't last long
soon I'm gon' act wrong
I ain't tryna get clapped on
for making these rap songs
If you're misunderstood,
can't walk with the hood thing
To know that I've been swindled,
bamboozled, and hoodwinked
These rappers ain't like me,
the heat that there might be
More to me than some
Air
I'm nice,
B
a pocket full of straws
I'm that nigga to look for,
Ain't never been shook poor
I switched from
Mected
Man to
Candyman and then hooked off
Still ain't nothin' smooth, yo
Who wanna spit flows?
bag and then get dough
anything less is an insult
Goddamn, now I like being a man,
I like weed in my hands
G's in advance,
bitch I don't understand, me no lie
me no lie
And y 'all killers pop shit and can't fight
Now I like being a man,
I like weed in my hands
G's in advance,
Fake niggas that ain't got the game right,
me no lie
And y 'all killers pop shit and can't fight
So obnoxious that I'm toxic,
call it diarrhea
hot bitch and got butterfingers
Oops I dropped
Ceylon lopsa
been concocted
Got women just like a vehicle, topless
Pulling paper straight out
the woodwork until I push dirt
But dammit I'm back, I done relapsed
Shot a dose of some murder I
wrote then leaned back
Part dirty, you and
But I'm all map,
all that killin' some complex niggas
Have yet to blow up, they noth
in' but bomb threats
New
York, y 'all, shoot and shake me,
I bleed
G#m
Yankee
I'm hot, dawg, y 'all ain't
Nathan to put it frankly
then write exclusives
M -E like
VH1, you know, behind the music
Now I like being a man,
I like weed in my hands
G's in advance,
but y 'all don't understand
ain't got the game right
Me no lie, y 'all killers pop
shit and can't fight
Now I like being a man,
I like weed in my hands
I like my
G's in advance,
but y 'all don't understand
ain't got the game right
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