Pawns

Lyrics

Yeah We keep it live Yeah Guess who's back, guess who's back Yeah Come on All my G's up While we burn these trees up See I'm kinda pivotal Floatin' in a rental Hit the black tack digital I'm here for the mental Baby, dance I play the sensei Live life kinda expensive It's a lavish lifestyle Making cabbage Take advantage and build, to get my weight up I kick up See I'm being wicked I hope you came to get your kickhead on It's your business I'm your witness And I keep it to myself That I hit this Stack it on the shelf I spread love I smoke a dub with my niggas that I drug with [Hook] Niggas we thug when we get the plug When we spread love When of course nigga We run the show from P-Town to Buffalo Hittin' major corners Hittin' miles of cash flow We push the euro shit Hit your bitch if she hit me on the hip I stay whipped and laced with the finer things Cartier bracelets, platinum watches and rings They come through in the sip G-String They don't make fun of me with my money They check my change and play for plain Cause no matter how it goes, we all pawns in the gang Oh we pawns in the gang homie Cause if we made it easy, it would still be hard We like some bonafide niggas up and down the yard It's very simple, how we put this rap shit down We wrap it air tight and we send it out of town What's your name homeboy? I be Big Hutch and great, who are you? Finn Loco, flip the weight nigga And in the back it's Mr. K-Oss, I said he quit the draw We leak up and stack trips and stay above the law Now I be quick to blast, quick to hit the electric staff Never had safety check, a player hated a quick fast Then I mash out, cause I be on some other shit Some low down dirty gunner shit The type of shit to make you think you really don't wanna fuck with this You better come strapped with your game up to par Before I have to revoke your pass to the player seminar I perform like a sports car at high rates of heat And hit your ass block for block with rhymes and beats I gives a fuck I wake up the hood with the all good Clean and connect with your clip to flip Chips, rights, grips, hit them out of town licks Baby trip for trip with the quick mix Ooh the bands are sick Casino, caballino, blacker than nino Flippin' cenos, now she fuckin' with this sucker And we know that he broke and we smokin' out growth The new hoes addicted to the aromatic shrimp As we walk with the lip and give up the pimp status Don't fuck with the madness Original like lattice Nizzite with the piss zips The party for crips and bloods Now nigga what? Supersports in grand natural zone Tuckin' their cunts in straight pods If we made it easy it would still be hard We like some bonafide niggas all around the yard It's very simple how we put this rap shit down We wrap it air tight and we shit it out of town I be Big Hutch to great, who are you? Then loco with the weight And in the back is Mr. K-Oss and he quit the draw We link up and stack clips and stay above the law Nigga what? What, what, what, what? Straight up 299 nigga Come on, guess who's back Guess who's back Guess who's back Nigga guess who's back Holdin' down the yard Holdin' down the yard Straight up, ATL, Armageddon shit 1999 Follow the pathway Understand The truth ain't just shit I picked a close nigga Come on