This trap hard, it's on fire
Beat around nigga like a busy bee player
I won my hood, no marathon
Took out for a minute, now I'm back on
Them base bigger, my dreads longer
My niggas realer, my weed stronger
Smoking that pack, that body builder
Money talks, I don't fuck with you
You can't dress, you ain't got swag
You a walking label, you a signed artist
Got my own label, fuck these niggas
With their middle finger, I'mma die reaching
I'm a gang banger so it's fuck what critics say
I'm talking money, I keep wanting K
Don't make me transform to my old ways
Keep black diamonds on me like OJ
I'm turnt up of no drugs
You turned down, you get no love
Love is in the G so I'm in the crowd
Acting wild, they all know I go hard
Bitch, I'm death the child
One phone call to them killers, at you
That is speed dial
I was visiting at the same time Joey beat his murder trial
RIP to Call, that's a fallen soldier
Still collecting opinions, I'm a humble nigga
Never joined forces, make my own way
I keep K, no birthday, fuck her all day
Competition, I eliminate
Follow street laws, don't litigate
I delegate, you follow
I own my own shit, you borrow
Last nigga try to rob me got shot
Never seen before a half a mil', that's real shit
Big Homie Flock Squad
compositores: Juaquin Malphurs, Eduardo Earle
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