Lyrics

[Verse] I don't talk beef cause I walk it Bag full of chips, no Walker's I started off with crumbs now I'm stacking up my bread I will shoot him right if he's moving left Ride to the death, death before dishonour The big .45 stays on us, you unna? I'm not guilty, niggas wan' kill me My nigga do you feel me? I'm stressed cause my friend's dead Friends, ain't got many left Adolescence stage, remember the days when I was penniless Cold sweats, nights up in jail had a nigga stressed I don't give a fuck about the po-po Still shoot the .44 right through his logo Ralph Lauren polo Burner on my waistband, my pancreas Shoot him thirty times all in man's wig I drop food on my line and watch my grams flip I'll wig him, I'll give him the damn clip .44 and it's two-tone The strap's overweight like a sumo I have bullets sliding out like a newborn Keep the gun in my pocket like two phones Real cocky like Curtis Warren Real fucking drug baron Feds want me on the Y like my noti Fuck half, I need that whole key Me and Big S kept it real from day one While these fuckboys only came round yesterday Coke in the pot, make it bubble up I'ma burn him with that iron till he's had enough I just need cheese in my fucking sandwich Talking money yeah that's my fucking language I move low, me and DLO I move green, white, B and snow I might rob the link for like six boxes Twenty-five each piece, get rich off it In beef my niggas squeeze, won't speak often I'll leave them stone cold like Steve Austin Money on my mind, got me thinking different Caught my first body with a fucking Smith & Wesson Fifteen when I first touched prison Sixteen when I changed my religion Armani jeans and the top is Stoney Dior for my daughter in her baby rolly I don't trust niggas, move too phoney If I wasn't on top you'd probably disown me Drive-by in the night G You'll see the heatwave like Wiley Niggas get shot and be like "Why me?" I'll come and rob a nigga for his watch so kindly "Born alone, die alone" embedded in my brain Capone is the name, Capone in the Range I'ma stop the car if she's not giving brain VS1 diamonds round the Cartier frame Moving like Pesci, MAC and a speshy Strangle the strap; kill a nigga gently Real G's recognise, fake ones resent me I remember school, got kicked out from early Then I went centre, finished 12:30 I tried to do the college thing, it was shit, it didn't work So I hit the block hard, trapping sling and work The devil wants my soul, these roads so cold Feds want me locked or dead in a hole Gun in my pocket, ain't no fed checking me My nigga got locked, they tried to do a double jeopardy I've got this hot spice and she said that she's Lebanese Older Snap bought me a gun for my seventeenth birthday Bang bang early, I show no mercy Bullets got him bad like herpes