No Yeast (Remix)

Lyrics

[Intro: Boldy James] With no yeast, so street, a nigga everything he seeming to be BoldyBlocks/BlockWorks, where we at? [Verse 1: Boldy James] Scurvy nigga from Detroit, made it big off the lo-fi I came from making pallets on the floor, but now we multi Tied in, like a bow tie, out of work, call me Hawkeye What do you call a pig that don't fly straight, fuckin' horse eye Frenchy Montana, dropping more glass than Wassack All this money, I be staring at it, got me cross-eyed Don't get caught in the crosshairs, them blocks'll get you hog-tied (Blocks) Don't piss me off or you get chalked the same way that your boss died Thеse niggas, they just talk slack, behind thе line of scrimmage, get caught off sides Don't make me click the switch, you know we ill-advised Cleaning out my closet, full of choppers, ain't got shit to hide Skeleton AP bus with baguette, priced at four-sixty-five One nigga sent for me, who took the hit, he should've quit his job We cooked the beef, and grilled him with the stick, now he a shish kebab 'Bout an hour from Chesapeake, somewhere remixing pies By the powers in vest in me, now you may kiss the bride 365-25-8 with triple OT Don't need a GPS, the route, I got it memorized All I need in this world of sin is a 36 A dirty stick, and a base rental from Enterprise Sippin' this Red Bull on the road, shit got me energized Way I touched down at the goalpost was just a gift from God Brainwashed by the money, shit got me hypnotized My only problem is which watch I'ma wear, and which whip to drive [Verse 2: Westside Gunn] Ayo, my shit bold guitar, Dolce overalls Break it down to eighths, you know the protocol, you know what stove involved Banana drums had you runnin' dark and flippin', trippin' I see one nigga hop a Porsche like Blake Griffin My shooter stay sniffin', my yay different, he lift his face from the plate Thought it was Christmas, over thousand dollar dishes, wishin' In Honolulu, Dior daddy shorts, lookin' new-new But never call me Nunu if I never knew you Got twin bitches with fake titties blowin' my dice at the Caesars Them stones too cloudy, lil' nigga, them ain't GIA My wrist dancin' like Sammy Davis Mesa Cassoon on Pappy Mason [Verse 3: Curren$y] When push come to shove, that's brass knuckles underneath the glove Pushed an envelope to the judge Less than a quarter million on that, stubborn bitch won't budge We knew what it was before they shooters even pulled up The whole situation reeked of some niggas hatin' Where did you get your street education, what have your OG's done? How many blocks did they run? You way too old for niggas to send you on missions Like they sons, my nappy dread, thoroughbreds, and a six-hun' Cops pulled it over lookin' for guns But this the money car, so they can't link us up, no RICO law We eatin' over here, we spillin' Pico sauce Drippin' on the Gucci tablecloth, she landed and came to my palace And she took it off, she said the scent of my candles— Had her dazzled, and then she felt compelled to pull a scandal off But they could only call it that if we get caught, baby You dealin' with a boss, we do our dirt and get lost Billy Valentine, these record labels, Mortimer and Randolph Trading Places, exchangin' some blues for all my old faces Changin' safes is a smart way, maintain that paper In many different ways, Andretti sharp as a laser