Lyrics

[Intro] Uh, I did it again, niggas (Ha, ha) You know you done fucked up right? (Right, right) I know what y'all out there askin' y'allself (Uh) Will his gun ever jam up? No [Verse 1] A lot of speculations on the hammers I done raised Niggas I done blazed Man, I stay strapped, will that nigga really clap? Niggas I got popped or shot up direct Is it true he kept a MAC and don't fuck with them TECs? What's the position you hold when that stock gon' fold? On that K, rappers sprayed when my gun unload Bullets tired of shit, but they'll leave you cold Before Boyz turn II Men they at the "End of they Road" Yeah, the bully back, to put you on your ass Quicker than that fully MAC slide a bullet in the shaft I give 'em room to breathe, but never room to leave Every nigga I done clapped never came back (Ugh) Nice Glock, nigga, you should see the mac That hold 40 fevers when the stock pulled back You be sweatin' like 40 fevers when I pull that Let's end the speculations on will I clap? When you motherfuckers gon' realize that? I blaze you without a razor, get your wig pushed back, blah [Chorus] It's the same ol' thang, in the game and it ain't no change Cats come, don't say no names, we don't play no games And we quick to let the thang go bang If a nigga wanna test my aim, it's the same ol' thing Same ol' thing, it's the same ol' thing Same ol' thing [Verse 2] Man, ain't shit different, it's the old Ford Sig' remix Braids gone, my wave's on, got 'em seasick, I'm up in Your ribs touchin' like you ain't eat shit Whoever said that the kid wouldn't be shit? Stacks increasin' That's a moot point so keep leapin' Spaces to the left, feds keep creepin' Plottin' on my arrest, they want a nigga stretched in the precinct Press'll paint a picture like don't release him Check his background, his prior stretch since a delinquent Plus check the people he in sync with Them Old Kids on the Block, who hustle on the Backstreets The Boys tryna color him bad He's a three-time felon, in fact, he on probation right now Ankle bracelet can't confine him to the house Bad weight, no cosignment, can't confine him 'til it drought My fed-case lawyer knocked the bottom of it out, blaow [Chorus] It's the same ol' thang, in the game and it ain't no change Cats come, don't say no names, we don't play no games And we quick to let the thang go bang If a nigga wanna test my aim, it's the same ol' thing Same ol' thing, it's the same ol' thing Same ol' thing