Eli Fire
Nice!
Peter Parker
Mr. Peter Parker, what up?
What up?
Ren
Jersey
Heavy
The ginger's back, baby
Sucka
They wanna see me fall but I ain't slippin'
Yeah, your bitch wet
Watch it goin' down
That's a shipwreck, I been next
Word to the prophet round Big's neck
I'm out for generational wealth
And not a cent less
God sayin' stay less
I'll stay blessed, need a blank check
* them fake threats
I'm the apex in your tape deck
Old school like Eric and Parrish
Then the Cherry Carrera
Only competition is the man in the mirror I ain't got options,
show dead foes
Don't get exposed,
keep these hoes on they toes And blow a load in they throat
They sayin' whoa,
you need to pull back some But I been this since B-Real said time for
some action Fake peace,
cap gun,
your rappers like a backbone
Before I had a deal,
I moved units off a track phone
Told Peter Parker send a beatin' I'm a bitch So when you reply,
the only thing to say is
shhh T-Minus 5, * about to go down
Turn your homie trap and listen to a ghost town
Low down,
don't know they bout to know now On fire,
fourth quarter,
this gon' be a blowout
Every time I hear one,
they goin' shhh Inhale,
exhale,
I'm off that hat shhh
Your car cribbing,
duels is leased,
y'all wanna reach free
Your lady leave with me,
I turn the keys,
she goin' shhh
Uh,
yeah,
freedom thinkers,
the posse The Rockets,
the army,
the gunners,
the army
We mobbin' like the Italians,
medallions is on fleece
People pay me what they owe,
cause they know I'm a OG
Had to show all these niggas the nine-speed
Caught my opp,
left him shot in the spittle for nine weeks
Made six or seven hundred and flooded the timepiece
In the back of the back in the hood with a
dime piece,
shhh Women jot,
get mad when I go pee
Folks I grew up with,
brag cause they know me Bag for the chains,
nubba bag for the rollies
V12 pull off fast from the police,
shhh Niggas listen when Freeza talkin',
Freeza blackout
But he get darker when Peter Parker bring the track out
We really made it to the mansions from that crack house
And we do it for our niggas, bout to max out
T-minus five,
* about to go down Turn your homie trap and listen to a ghost town
Low down,
don't know they bout to know now On fire,
fourth quarter,
this gon' be a blowout
Every time I hear one,
they goin' shhh Inhale,
exhale,
I'm off that hat,
shhh
Your car cribbing jewels is leased,
y'all wanna reach free
Your lady leave with me,
I turn the keys,
she goin' shhh
Peter Parker in the track out, shhh
Flooded the timepiece, hahahah
How does he do that?
Who cares?
Mr. Peter Parker,
25-8,
shout out to my man Eli Fire,
Ren Thomas,
Philadelphia Freeway, and my brother VJD Mills.
Let's go.