Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ramsey Gordon
Songwriter
Javier Toussaint
Songwriter
Lyrics
When they ask me what I'm living fo
Tell em my momma, my children and my bitches yo
Plus I do it for my niggas bro
The go gettas throat slittaz and the grittas yo
I done lead a life on the streets
On mommas, kudda died in the streets
All the stress, so in my pipe there's a leaf
I see the future, in my eyes there's relief
It's me and Starkiesha-coincide to the beat
In her mind, go in deep
Vampire style-we don't speak, we in-synch
So we correlated, Decepticon King, bitch I'm coronated
Guerilla Warfare team, like Noreaga
All black big strap, like the Terminator
Stay fresh, Iacon like the himalayas
Go hyphy in the bed, get innovative
Break me down in to pieces: make a mosaic
When it's my turn, put her in the boilermaker
Transformer sound, so they know it's Mega
Me quieres cojer, en arena de la playa
Go Starkiesha
Put a trance ona nig
Do dem pilates
Dance on the stick
Do the Mac Dre
That's hand over chips
BitCoin or cash
Get it hand over fist
When they ask me what I'm living fo
Tell em my momma, my children and my bitches yo
Plus I do it for my niggas bro
The go gettas throat slittaz and the grittas yo
E scooter wouldn't charge, so we walk em down
Young Beaux P black sheep, Ima problem child
The matte black fake nigga paint, is not allowed
Turn the fish in to bullets, then I fed the whole crowd
Don't look never point, so quit talkin loud
Wrist rockets bitch, gotta get to ze chawpa now
Finna slide on they home base, ain't no optin out
The devil knows all secrets, can't let him walk around
Never speak about it, never be without it
Nigga we about it
Finna make it rain with the choppa, gotta lookin cloudy
These niggas rowdy
Hexa mouthy but they game lousy
Niggas work wit Tommy so you know I have to keep onme
It's tax season, might catch him with his baby mommy
Stay low key, I hate these niggas like Ambercrombie
Shippin weed packs of green saucy
To Chillicothe
Had to pay his bond, watch him obscond
What the kill cost me
Go Starkiesha
Put a trance ona nig
Do dem pilates
Dance on the stick
Do the Mac Dre
That's hand over chips
BitCoin or cash
Get it hand over fist
But I can call the Crips, and get you hit, like Big Poppa
My gun spray like bonaka, for these shit talkas
I got my diaper, so I hope you got that shit onya
If yousa dark skin fem hen
I put the dick onya
If yousa salty corn chip, I'm bouta dip onya
It sound like thunder, when I listen to my innervoice
If yousa black man, kill a trumper
Time to go get dem boys
When they ask me what I'm livin fo
Tell em my momma
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