Returns

Lyrics

[Intro] Yeah, nahmsayin 1995, nigga Let's go! Huh, ayo [Verse] We don't make threats to niggas, we make shootings Funeral arrangements, wakes and viewings I'm the predecessor of the upstate movement In '05, I was upstate, weight moving Don't understand how rappers feel great losing Be broke all day, then go make music? Your chain a kilo, but like Al Pacino in Scarface My nigga, that's a fake Cuban I'm innovative with pitchin' I took a brick, a hot plate and emulated the kitchen I gave a hater his distance I need a chef, a maid and two administrativе assistants Niggas know that I'm true and livin' Ain't concerned with fittin' in Morе determined to do it different I got a entrepreneur vision So I don't mind being the Michael Bivins of this New Edition, huh All of my shooters listen They don't know who you is, they see your pic, then pursue the mission It's a few dudes who I'm missin' So I put weed in a balloon, make your bitch go to a prison In other words, niggas have to learn I got cash to burn that I ain't going have to rap to earn Goin' broke is my last concern And that's confirmed from all of my bank statements and tax returns