Jack & a Press

Lyrics

[Intro: Los] (Olympic) Ayy, what's the numbers on it? Yeah (Damn, Flaw, this what I been prayin' for) Chill, chill, nigga, yeah Nigga, yeah What's the numbers on it? Pussy-ass niggas, ain't got no love for 'em [Chorus: Street Lord Juan, G.T. & Los] Fifty box of Ziplocs packed in a 'Vette (What else?) A strap and a vest (What else?) A jack and a press (Uh-huh) Fifty box of Ziplocs packed in a 'Vette (What else?) A strap and a vest (What else?) A jack and a press [Verse 1: Los] My mans called my phone talkin' 'bout, "What's the numbers on it?" Do you got some fuckin' money or just know who want 'em? Boy, I can throw you somethin' Cookin' class, show you somethin' Drought season, pandemic Like how much work can you handle? Like call it what you want, don't call me if it ain't 'bout money One phone call'll have my young nigga waitin' on you Razorblade in a plate or somethin', cut up a kilo Smack my mans in the head with a brick like he Deebo I might fight like a man, I been whippin' all day I'm kinda close to a ticket, how many trips it's gon' take? I'm like fuck it, I'm straight, knee-deep, I tell myself keep goin' I was cookin' niggas' bids, now I get paid to perform, nigga [Chorus: Street Lord Juan, G.T. & Los] Fifty box of Ziplocs packed in a 'Vette (What else?) A strap and a vest (What else?) A jack and a press (Uh-huh) Fifty box of Ziplocs packed in a 'Vette (What else?) A strap and a vest (What else?) A jack and a press [Verse 2: G.T.] I'm talkin' 'bout my hands numb, I been countin' a check I'm threadin' them bales, I ain't take one risk Got a bird in my right hand, got one on my left Wrist forty alone, it can get par for a brick On the road, lil' nigga, we only stoppin' to piss I ain't take one loss, I know my haters is sick Quick to double the pros, blow some on my bitch Movin' so much weight, but not the one that you bench Gotta use a lil' strength, fuck around with the press I walked in, cuz like Montana, coke all on the desk After you blend this shit, lil' nigga, let this shit rest Come take it to a small town, we show you how to invest [Chorus: Street Lord Juan, G.T. & Los] Fifty box of Ziplocs packed in a 'Vette (What else?) A strap and a vest (What else?) A jack and a press (Uh-huh) Fifty box of Ziplocs packed in a 'Vette (What else?) A strap and a vest (What else?) A jack and a press (Okay) [Verse 3: Street Lord Juan] If you know Juan, then you know I'm Tied in from Chuco Town to Russo shop On 7 Mile and Beland, got my boots on knot For dancin' on a quarter ton of that mucho cob A different cash type, grew up livin' fast life Bag life, four freight liners, duckin' flashlights Flood the red zone 'fore it was a red zone The feds know all my opposition got a headstone Nigga, all fact, no cap Before rap, playin' with tickets, all trap, no rap Just got out the feds, and I'm back on trap Came home the right way, nigga, no trap, no rattin', nigga [Chorus: Street Lord Juan, G.T. & Los] Fifty box of Ziplocs packed in a 'Vette (What else?) A strap and a vest (What else?) A jack and a press (Uh-huh) Fifty box of Ziplocs packed in a 'Vette (What else?) A strap and a vest (What else?) A jack and a press (Okay)