You ain’t getting blue strips, what?
You ain’t never shoot shit, what?
Went into the precinct cuffed?
Told them who did what?
N***** be way too tough
Finna call your bluff, pick up
Whole rap sheet smut
Mouth running, you an athlete, huh?
Gotta chase that bag
Can’t let it pass me up
Keep one tucked, the ops don’t play
Been way more beef since I got paid
I ride ’round with Ray Charles tint
The police search, they won’t find shit
I’m way too rich for sleepless nights
The beef on sight and I won’t miss
I love this shit like my mama
I love this shit like my mama
I love this shit like my mama
Live for the money and die for the dollars
Home of the killers and flockers
I love this shit like my mama
Michelin stars
We gotta eat, soon as he tweak
Sent to the Lord
Land of the beasts, running the streets
Glory to God
Answered my mama ‘n ’em prayers
I got my weight up, workin’ my way up
Now I don’t go ‘less they pay us
Money ain’t everything
But I promise it help the pain
I just paid for a body and got the receipt
Baby, let’s celebrate
Makin’ money, makin’ moves
Channel 7, breaking news
Competition, wishin’ harm
Run up on me I’mma (Boom) boom
I love this shit like my mama
I love this shit like my mama
I love this shit like my mama
Live for the money and die for the dollars
Home of the killers and flockers
I love this shit like my mama
On my mama
On my mama
On my mama
On my mama
On my mama
On my mama
On my mama
On my mama
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