Turn up the music
Turn up the music
Turn up the music
Turn up the music
Pockets droppin', niggas hurtin' money down
It's kinda like tryin' to pass a kidney stone
But I got hustle in my veins and my bones and my skin
Mother***er, I'ma win
One foot in the grave, the other one in the pen
One hand on the scale, the other one on my skin
Heartless, empty the cartridge
Darkness
Darkness

Get out the dodge, folks
Now I don't look for trouble
But trouble we always seem in a fine
These suckers don't want to scuffle
But suckers would rather try to nine me
Blind me, blind me
Sneak up right behind me
Creep up on the fixture and give it to a dick
You might be slick, man, but I'm much to the flip
You might be slick, man, but I'm much to the flip
That's your wife, man, but she my real
What you want, P.L.?
Turn up the music
Turn up the music
Turn up the music
Turn up the music
Turn up the music
Turn up the music
Turn up the music
Turn up the music.
Turn up the music.
Turn up the music.
Turn up the music.
Turn up the music.
Watch this stuff.
Watch the music.
I was talking to my mentor.
Look what I do.
I said that.
I told him, I told him, you don't know what I've been through.
You don't know what I can do.
You don't see what I can see.
But I'm going to listen to you because you my mother***ing OG.
You can learn from an infant.
You can learn from a baby.
You can learn from a dolphin that appeared to be crying.
Family, I'm lifted like a toilet seat.
High as ***, I'm hazy.
But there's something about that you don't need to make a hustle.
Throw it over the top like this and make my next door neighbors want to hate.
Every time I call police or dismiss report a hustler to the federal.
Man I'm about my chip.
I'm concrete and I'm silent.
Rubber bands *** a money clip I want, I don't.
I send the soccer the hell I even have.
Put my AK-47 on my FN 57.62, my macc 11 make you sing the blues.
Blow you out your shoes.
Your only clue is the headline news.
Turn up the music.
turn up the music.
Turn up the music.
Turn up the music.
Turn up the music bop bap
Turn up the music, never pull a pistol if you ain't planning on using it
And around and around he goes, we're almost out, nobody knows, skating in my old mobile
Sitting on top of the hill, smoking on some keel, burning the rubber off my wheels
Letting them know that I'm for real, chewing off my smear
My rearbone, French and black, make it clear
I'd rather not shoot you, I'd rather fight, I just look like this, but I'll be the first one to strike
Bumped his broad the other night, her monkey was hella tight
Her ex looking like he wanna take flight
Knowing that the niggas soft within the bank, he tryna prove it, I knew it in that fluid to do it
Before I lose it, turn up the music
Turn up the music
Before I lose it, turn up the music