N.W.A (feat. Migos, MPA Wicced & Peewee Longway)

Baby keep me on my P's, let's break down 100 P's Gucci gas go 33 but gotta get 30 P I don't even need a reason to hit you with the heat These shoes don't come out this season, but still they on my feet Old folk keep calling us heathens, too many drugs on the street I'm servin' right down by 4 Seasons, niggas from the pen won't weep PeeWee got the bricks and the bales, listen up to the story I tell The bricks, they came from the mail, my plug his name is Miguel I'm in the kitchen, counting up benji's Yo bitch washing dishes and wrapping up fishes Used to run from the cops on the block, hit four hot bar Took it to the chop shop If I fuck with ya, I'm making you straight drop If I don't know ya, I'mma get ya rerock Got a bando in Boston The way I pitch them 8-balls, shoulda played for the Red Sox Just took a loss, 'bout to take something off Put it to the head, make her open up the vault Say you got bird, head all in a loss Soon as you turn the key boy you bout to get off Bought a brand new A-P, but I'm always late Everyday my birthday, now watch me bake cake I finesse the plug for the drugs Even though a nigga always show love If he ain't Migos, he ain't MPA Brick Squad, nigga you ain't my blood Tryna hit my blunt, tryna sip my drank What the fuck you think? Ain't shit soft around my way Unless you talkin' 'bout cocaine