Crime Pays

Lyrics

[Intro: BandGang Masoe] It's on his head It's crazy how a nigga could get blew and turned red We lost one, came back and dropped somethin', like what they said? (Ooh, shit, that's a Danny G beat) Fuck they said? Nigga, he's in his head [Verse 1: BandGang Masoe] It's crazy how a nigga could get blew and turned red We lost one, came back and dropped somethin', like what he said? Got a nigga hit up, I'm at home in bed In my California King, money tall as Yao Ming With the Mary and we ridin' through the D, [?] I've been heavy on the pills, I cut back on the lean Told my ho these niggas sellin' dreams, Martin Luthеr King Got a bell on the back of my Glock, don't let it ring Thеse niggas get caught, turn to Anita and sing When I pick that phone up and say, "Money", it's green I'm tryna hit a nigga main bitch, he in the league I don't get tired like I play in 2K with no fatigue Just whipped out twenty in all blues, she intrigued Interested, niggas stealin' shit, that mean they listenin' He ain't in the streets like the app, his ass a citizen Sellin' blues to them yellow folks, Michigan They plucked him up and now his ass flat, Michelin Sellin' 'caine, try some duff shit and get a dirty grave Playin' both sides, he in the middle, seventh grade I get all my money illegally, nigga, crime pays My young nigga bodied up, he in his ho phase I hope all my niggas get rich and die of old age I know a bitch that's hoein' without backpage Nigga play then got deleted, backspace She let me bust it in her mouth, she liked how it taste Nigga tried to catch me slippin' and he caught the K Now they singin' church songs like "Amazing Grace" [Verse 2: StanWill] He get hit with this, bet he won't make it in the surgery Model bitch from Paris, but the whip was made in Germany Bro know chemistry, he took a Sprite and made it burgandy Doggy need a Whopper and a crown 'cause he the burger king Push to start, bitch, I ain't turnin' keys Never punched a clock, if I ain't rap, then I be servin' fiends Everything he sayin' cap, I think he speakin' purpanese Spilled some Wocky on my Mike Amiris, now they purple jeans Blickie with the opp, think if I miss, it was the grace of God Turnt as fuck, I turn it any more, shit, I might break the knob .40 kinda chunky, shit, today I might just play the .9 Need to get his bitch some health insurance, I'ma break her spine Pop with some Wock', gettin' top from some thots Pull up on us tryna score, you gettin' stopped by them locks Chop with the Glock, you know opps, they get shot I guess they ain't never tell 'em tryna box get you boxed Huh, Dog Shit Militia