키: D# minor•
Verse 1
I came in the game profane, no image
I came in the game with a name
I was given from a mane
who ain't give a fuck about his chitlin
I proclaim the name though, never in vain,
no, watch the change grow
A young nigga who done
gained from fame,
copped the Range Road,
now they want my brains on the main road
But they don't understand
what I came for,
how I came forth with a million sold
Who say you can't grow
from mildew and mold,
get money like Ross Perot
I'm often told, a coffin's the routes I go
Oh, that's the road you own, oh no
I'm down for the rifle tone,
the faux faux
Don't ever try to send a nigga home, no, no
I know you wanna catch me at Sonoco
Show me that you're loco,
put hoes in my photo
Nope, ope, ho toast
No jokes and slugs through your polo
Just cause, oh, a thug roll solo
Impose on grown folk, be a cold negro
B -Low, you dreamed up people,
believe that the boy see no evil
Oh, I had you doublin' out
when I backed a 30 -30 rifle
Abm
Ebm
Abm
Oh, too late
for niggas to get religious
Oh, see you should make peace
I visualized it, old Trice at 25, survived it
Pride for violence, invite the violence
Fist fight a fireman, be a tyrant
To these niggas, nice and silent
Old Trice from a trifle, buy him in
He rocks the mic, no sight of retiring
Maybe when the banker
counts like Leviathan
I'm in position to hire
a client's business
Meanwhile, I'm a virus like Iverson
A nigga crossover, Europeans admiring
And the soldiers retiring
I ain't buyin',
motherfuckers actin' like they denyin' him
Who tryin', a nigga who views bias?
I figure your crew tired
My trigger introduces violence,
produce them sirens
You in the spittle, orange juice
and vitamins, no
Oh -oh -oh -oh
I had you lovin' out
Abm
Ebm
when I backed a 30 -30 rifle
Abm
Ebm
Abm
Oh -oh -oh -oh
Too late for niggas to get religious
Oh -oh -oh -oh
Oh -oh
See, you should make peace
Bbm
Ebm
instead of making me become a psycho
A derelict who inherited hustle
My heritage married the street struggle
Like a couple of great uncles ago
So this blood streams through my nuts
Seems like I wasn't in touch
with a teacher -ass goat
Nah, I was just a preachin' O
Seat on the bleachers in flip coat
The only reachin' got
through my dome
Niggas gaffled,
so they gotta be chromed
Pulled the wind and rappled,
so I scramble with the track
and the phones
Fuck an act and a clone,
this is actual happenings that's factual
Back in my home, this is rap
but I ain't rappin' so
you clap in the zone
Think I'm trapped in an act
for the sake of performing?
This is your warning,
run up on them wrong
and your tissue is burning
A hundred degrees warm,
old trees, he's gone
My nigga buzz, bring the hook back in for him
I hear you yellin' out,
when I'm back to 30, 30,
See, you should make peace
instead of making payment from
a psycho
Ebm
I'm just a Thank
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