I know *** about a murder, I can't speak on it I feel that bad weather when V-Logs sound like speakerphones I *** that hoe, then block the phone, she say you dead wrong I pull up in that AMG, ain't black, it's two-tone They try to call me, y'all, I tell them I can't get close I'm rich as hell, my pocket fat as hell like ham hoes Yeah, it's the mayor and the ma and we don't take losses He talk that ***, but I make one call, get that pussy nigga off Make one false move, I'ma get that nigga crossed Money talk, and guess what, I got a hundred in my mouth Boy, your snout, I smoke Big Macs, Wazza, Zaza, Ariel I'm not the same, boy, you broke as hell, your mama is to blame Man, raise you right, mama may have raised me to grow up with stripes I kept a pipe, cause I seen a nigga get killed on my bike It changed my life, promin' myself, I won't let them take my lip So I move right, kickin' doors every mornin', trappin' Nikes You will listen, bout this street ***, I'm a mother***in' vet I got respect, ain't nobody more hood than my nigga Tick What's up, them bad, I just niggas serve the city, boy, with swag Now, that's his ad, if he want smoke, somehow, here, he do the than Ice is cold, hope it on my wrist, the teen in my elbow, it got the glow Ten, seventeen, we all burn, roll here, it can't fold, wipe his nose He got mad because he slurred that bitch, so I did her cold Make her suck me with my ice on, she was cool I know *** about a murder I can't speak on I feel that bad weather when V-Logs sound like speakerphones I *** that hoe, then block the phone, she say we dead wrong I pull up in that AMG, ain't black, it's two-tone They try to call me, y'all, I tell them I can't get close I'm rich as hell, my pockets fat as hell, like Helmholtz Yeah, it's the mayor and the martyr, we don't take losses He talk that ***, but I make one call, get that pussy nigga off Ayy, Fuji, you ain't got to make no calls to get them pussies wet This Ketchum comin' out here sneakin', linkin', scratchin' with his mat Two hundred shots up in this, all tomorrow, 150 in this mat This chomper kick out 308s, no 5.56s in my mat That bitch is pullin' on my dick, I went and got my bands up Could be the pilot on a plane and your ass doin' bad stuff He bless this block up with a carb and go and peel my mans up They done got a criminal rich, now his shots out the lamb truck I do too much, my pockets stuffed and got my rubber bands stuck Them pole to ten up in the Faygo, this might be my last cup When you go on that mission, boy, make sure you mask up I started my own gang, I'm a tour with the Task Force I don't share a bottle of murder, I can't speak on I feel that bad way, that what V-Logs sound like speakerphones I *** that hoe, then block the phone, she say, you dead wrong I pull off in that AMG, ain't black, it's two tones They try to call me, y'all, I tell them I can't get close I'm rich as hell, my pockets fat as hell like ham hocks Yeah, it's the mayor and the ma and we don't take loss He talk that ***, but I make one call, get that pussy nigga off *