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Lyrics

[Intro] Listen You in a privilege position to learn a thing or two Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open Say your serious about doin' some good in the real world, then this the place to learn You gotta decide, whether your a wolf, or a sheep And dear God, yet just the other day, son, they laid that nigga out Boy was talkin' all crazy, son hit that nigga like five times, boy And they start bangin' at the police and all that Niggas was bangin' at police and all that shit, son Shit wild right now in the hood, boy Already know, listen (Pirate) [Verse 1] I come from them underachievers, yeah, them bottom feeders And earn more stripes in these streets than shell toe Adidas Polo wife beater, Maserati two-seater The Godbody MLB like Derek Jeter Hit the sativa, throw some dick to my diva My bitch stay ten toes down like a ballerina Pull up in an XS Beamer Pop the trunk, flood the hood like Katrina If there's a natural disaster, we bring relief, fuck FEMA .40 cal, .45 and some baby Ninas (Y'all got my shit? You got your shit?) Don't be that beef over that bread and cheese that come between us Niggas dumpin' shots at ya head to leave ya family grievin' (Yo, hit that nigga, son) And laid up in a hospital bed but you was barely breathin' (Barely breathin' on here, son, boy) Son was eatin food, but he ain't choose to feed 'em Shit went left, it wasn't right, so they chose to leave him Hop out the coupe for unknown reasons with them pistols squeezin' Charge him with treason and left his flesh for hyenas and heathens [Chorus] Niggas start talkin' slick, we pull up and we park the whip Niggas start talkin' slick, we hop out (We hop out right here, son) You might see me in Neiman Marcus or in Saks at 5th Handful of designer, ready to cash out (It's all cash, no credit, ma) Valentino, Versace, Gucci or designer drip That's how me and my squad move out (Yo, remember, get them Amiri jeans and a Off-White hoodie, and a Dior shirt too) Then it's back to the hood in the kitchen to chef up bricks I don't think these lames know what this life 'bout [Verse 2] Fuck how these haters feel, we here to handcuff a mil' ('Cuff a mil') And pull up in that Bentley Benteyga with a custom grill .38 with the potato, that's a silent kill Broad day on Broadway, I got hitters that will You might see me slidin' through traffic with a half a mil' We make a movie with no actors, man, this action real (This action real) Don't get blood all on ya fashion, spill From a thug's passion and will over drugs that we traffic and deal (doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot) I got Africans that'll kill, shooters from the City of Gods Like Lil Ze from Brazil, soldiers in the field With blood on they helmet and shield And bring horror to ya house like Amityville (Yessir) [Interlude] Word, Pirate Big Ghost on the motherfuckin' track Treasure Chest Entertainment [Chorus] Niggas start talkin slick, we pull up and we park the whip Niggas start talkin slick, we hop out (We hop out right here, my nigga) You might see me in Neiman Marcus or at Saks 5th Handful of designer, ready to cash out Gallerie department, exclusive game, all designer drip That's how me and my squad move out Then it's back to the hood in the kitchen to chef up bricks I don't think these lames know what this life 'bout [Outro] Uh, shit