September 7th

Lyrics

[Intro] Ugh, ugh, okay, okay, ugh [Verse 1] September 7th, I be in the future Off that line from the gutter, Drake and Future, ugh The seats butter and the paint is stupid Yeah that bitch sittin' fat lookin' like Rasputia, wait I'm day dreamin', where the time go Karate chopping bricks like I'm Tong Po Karate kid crane kick front door Turn a well known hitter to a John Doe Head honcho, bitches call me Sancho I'm all about my queso like Libre, Nacho Fast lane pronto, double cup slow-mo Erthang Skanless, mug shot for the promo I spent my whole life duckin' popo 'Cause once they got your photo it's ugly as Quasimodo E'rybody askin' what I'm trippin' for 'Cause I'm greezy like Louisiana river boats What they hittin' for, henny I be sippin' on Henny I be pourin' out for all my niggas dead and gone You better find a good bitch, make sure that she head strong Make sure that her head dope and love you when ya bread gone But all ya homies love you when your bread long Them the same niggas want ya head gone Prayin' for my downfall, freeze frame, fuck y'all Rewind that, that's on me, I ain't never trust y'all Yeah nigga that's real talk, that's real rap, that's real shit Now fast forward that real shit, where e'rybody that's real went? I'm still here with the same troops, they day one No new niggas but if you with us then you A1 Space Jam, ray guns, my guns look like play guns We treat work like Play-Doh, we stretch that and make play dough We go hard like playoffs, hit Greystone's, hit Playhouse We don't go in, we just sit back and follow drunk marks back to they house, ugh Yahtzee, Bingo Big chips like Pringles, Big chips like Plinko I shoot clutch like free-throws in a tie game and the clock gone If I shoot twice and I score once, yellow tape my team on, ugh, ugh No guts no glory, you save hoes like Maury, I play hoes like Sorry Push button that start him, big Gs like Jordy Twelve dated like Rodgers, street monster like Blanka Smooth plug on the blanco, but I need a bitch like blanco I find her I'ma go gorilla, King Kong, Congo Punchlines like combos, turn studios into dojos Turn condos into porn huts, square bitches, they born sluts Dumb bitches get laced up, no tennis shoes, throw heels on 'em That's Backpage, that's concrete, fifty toes, that's a five piece Roscoe's number nine meat with the plenty syrup and the ice tea Fuck Nino Brown, I'm like G-Money, I love Coco, Ice-T Spice one, Bossalini, yeah bitch I'm from kill street The killa gang, no killa block with a C-O-D kill-streak I'ma live life till they kill me, earn stripes till they feel me My mind gone, I need an operation, head doctor come heal me My record long and it's filthy, I just wanna live wealthy By any means I'ma get the cream, I'ma keep it trill like Bun B One mic, one P, one key, one beat That's all I need in this life of mine, in this life of rhyme, that's on me Killa!