BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Nigga Is my middle name
- Roll up in a club, got fifty grand in my pocket
- Not playin’ your little diss game, so stop it
- Fuck out my way before, I bring out a glock an’ pop it
- You try and flex your game on me, I’ll mock it
- Run up on me with your flex zone bubble and boy I’ll pop it
- Got more money up in here then Wayne and Wiz combined
- If you feel like flexin’ on me, tell yourself nevermind
- 6ix Squad boy, we out here twenty four seven, always on the grind
- Push a whole key through in an hour, call us master locksmiths
- We roll through the block, pull up on a boy, show a glock, tell him never
- to fuck with my clique
- We make you sick to your stomach boy, and in honesty it brings us joy
- You finna need to be a health nut to run away, cuttin’ out that milk,
- bringin in soy
- I’ll pull up on you, can on the ready, boy watchu doin? Hold that gun steady!
- If I’m tryna make fifty K with my crew bitch then let me
- Always got that loud in my sack, lightweight, get at me
- By the way Chuggen, rest in peace, don’t ever threaten me
- Walk out the bank with fifty more grand in my account
- I head back to the crib, got a few more stacks to count
- Pull up to the mall, hop outta that M5, never let a valet drive my whips
- Cup fulla purple, takin’ long sips, oh s*it refill time
- Call my hitta up, pull out fifty K, say it’s flexin’ time
- And when I’m done with them stacks, then lil bro, it’s exit time
- Can’t roll outta here without at least fifty grand in my hands twenty four 7
- If these streets were California, they’d be callin’ 1 8 7
- Empty clip, send a boy to heaven, man down
- By the way it’s soundin’, our blocks gonna be poundin’ yours down
- Stay with my guns and my boys, you know we hold it down
- This is our town, f*ck you boys gonna do?
- Another suit found dead, laying on the ground, nobody make a sound
- My teams arsenal got everything in it, call it a weapon’s lost and found
- Spray your whole team up, blind their asses
- What happens next makes their deaths a mass murder
- I don’t care what you say, rub me the wrong way
- I’ll make sure you’re feeding through a straw for life
- I’m on that low key, could serve a twenty five to life
- I’m in full stride though, bust through anything the ops can throw at me
- The way they goin’ at me, they’ll be dead before they twenty three
- At your funeral b*tches, I’ll just tell the audience they can’t touch me
- Smile and wave boys, smile and wave
- Little do the suits know, they diggin’ their own graves
- I’ll go to their cribs, razor in hand, too close for a shave
- Slit a throat, smooth as butter, so damn crazy, I think I’m finna kill another
- Billions still in progress, but the government is on my ass
- The ops offered me to turn myself in, but I think I’ll pass on that one
- Still gotta get them bands, time for a trip to the block with a gun
- Got that heat on my waist, straight put your life to waste
- If you got a problem with me boy come see me face to face
- If you got a problem with me, you’re gonna catch yourself maced
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