I just pulled up in the whatchacallit
Fiends on the block it ain't designer
A tube sock is their favorite wallet
I remember seeing my older cousin cracked out on my mama sofa
Slept for 3 days his body slumped over
I'm on a different tax bracket
Still the same nigga fucking hoes on an air mattress
Off hand doing Calisthenics got the hood Jumping
National grid outside We light the stove oven
Real shit
What is life Im in studio with my rap peers
That carhartt stab proof with it feel like Paul Pierce
Posted on the block with them lawn chairs
Gossiping bout getting money, bad hoes, and who out here
I'm out here
If this was nine four i would've got 5 mics
If this was nine four i would've got 5 mics
Fuck the source little nigga I'm the source for real
Fuck the source little nigga I'm the source for real
I was on the east side
Picking dimes
Dipping rhymes
Hoping God ain't let me die
Niggas tried to take me off the earth
Walking up on niggas after school tryna catch the work
Them boys were fuckin spooked though
Hanging with my CVS fuckin on a lil putooo
Police tryna kill the folk
Hanging on my fuckin hawk them lil niggas getting poked
I was dead broke chasing dollars please don't take me out my mode
Mafuckas tryna take me out my zone
But I ain't tripping though
And i ain't missing tho
Cause music shit ain't set in stone
Just tryna setthe tone, respect ya roles and fémen dan
I spent these troubled times
With dimes that could've been in vogue
See Jiles styles is more like slam dunking mines is finger rolls
Shit, If it was 98 i'd signed to murder Inc
Id Cop the coldest mink, and crew would got the goldest links
A plain rollie face, the shiny shit depreciates
But this is present day shit
See where i'm from, I made it
If this was nine four i would've got 5 mics
If this was nine four i would've got 5 mics
Fuck the source little nigga I'm the source for real
Fuck the source little nigga I'm the source for real
I used to want five mics in the source
Now i'm the source forreal
Nigga couldn't afford a deal
Now I do corporate deals
Peanut Butter seats the porsche was Teal
Had all the odds stacked against me
I made a fortune still
That boy was doing the most
So he was forced to chill
Talking greasy on internet
That boy in his feelings
I got the bag to have him smoked
I can afford to kill
Machine bitch, i'm a boss forreal
Mafia shit, two to the head
How that revolver feel
Got wise guys, that'll wack you
Get rid of that corpse forreal
Got mob ties my guy
But I don't eat no pork or veal
And i'm top 5 with lines
If ever we talking skill
And I got fly
I'm top 3 if ever we talking fair
Nigga you broke, so why is you talking still
Put the nail in the nigga's coffin still
Got the carbon steel
I'll blow their melon across the field
Machine