调:D# minor•
Verse 1
killing them in the game
Independent
You're now tuned in to the number one
Latin rap artist
Number one on the billboard
Haha
Who the fuck you think you talking to?
The streets fuck with real G's,
they don't fuck with you
That Mr. Criminal shit,
number one,
they feelin' we trick bossin'
Boost me on some silly shit,
homie
This really hits, economy crash,
bitch?
thank you for the purchase
Boost me on some bitches,
What happened to the days of real tracks
and real rappers?
Internet came,
All these MySpace rappers
came out overnight
pathetic, right?
motherfuckers get no credit like
jealous every night
shit is that?
Motherfuckers turnin' fatal,
But these half -ass bitch,
ruddery rappers get no deffin' now
Fools couldn't hang with that G shit,
no shows right
Now you see them rockin'
no love lost
Plucked out the gang
no love lost
bangin' gunshots
Fools be on some candy shit,
Goes water down, they get no love,
not from the ground
They got no fans locally,
Over this etho, the flows I spit is lethal
I'll put you in the ground
with it, like explicit
And triple X, rapper,
So don't even test,
I'm west side it like Tupac
latins on the microphone
dawg, you're killin' them hoes
Almost satisfied, but not quite yet
Fuck it, it's a cheap thrill
To hit the gang every year
I gotta tell them the truth,
if not the streets will
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