100 Keep It

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Bodega Bamz] Money was growin' out my treehouse, countin' cash with my feet out Yeah, I see my way in, but I don't see the way out So I bring my faith in, prayin' that I make out Good, 'cause in danger, there's no safe route, better me than you, partner They said I should've played in Gauchos, that's bullshit I'm a mobster with no options I'm still on broadway, not the Opera Even though I want a Phantom, cocaina white You gotta live for the moment, recordin' all night Like paranormal activity when I ghostwrite Casualties of a dice game, I roll for life That's that Santería blood in the chicken fight Give me some chicken, mix promethazine with my Sprite I kept the iron, I ain't never wanna be like Mike Where these rappers from? All they speak is fiction I guess they lyin' for the health, 'cause honesty's a sickness Nigga [Verse 2: Smoke DZA] It's dark and hell is hot, you heard what X said I'm in this bitch gettin' it poppin' like a X head My niggas reckless, take your neck for your necklace I got a appetite for destruction, say, what's for breakfast? Uh, this a 9/11 riot Fuckin' stressed, got a nigga on a Sour D diet Bullshit, I'm flyin' by it, I'm too real for the fake shit I'm too debonair for the tasteless I'm marvelous, niggas is garbage, got my gauntlet Gun-range flow, everybody's a target Dropped out of dice, skipped Harvard Regardless, still fuck off bread, I'm Mr. Marcus I'm 'bout to that W, paper, I need all of that Could get a twenty pack for thirty-two if I can bring it back Right, get a quarter for a verse For all the bitches, I go cop me some more work Right [Verse 3: Willie the Kid] Rubbin' elbows with these elbows Enclosed in the hellhole, I need closure Keep my gun like composure, too close for comfort I'm countin' currency on granit countertops, granted Carpal-tunnel wrist, tunnel vision, I take risk Salt and battery, no copper tops, I'm durable No Duracell, sell anything except my soul My sole purpose a perfect goal, I'm goin' with the wind Quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn Cramp cash money in my stash box Safe's in the wall behind portraits, la crème de la crème, my hidden fortress Hump the hood princess, the boy next door Air Jordans galore, I'm determined That's all, G4s across the seashore Dressed like lacrosse players, Lacoste polo by the layer A fresh pair of raw labors, Willie the Kid Willie Gary paper