Lyrics
Ahh, yeah, yeah it's Guwop
Can't keep bein broke
Well I was standing on, across the
Dawg, who gone, you know, hah
Zone 6 stand up, EA's finest nigga, hah
I ain't taking no bitch out
I'm taking niggas off (catch up)
I got 25 pints in my boot bag
25 ounces of that OG gas
I got a mall full of young niggas, OG man
And I'm a paper route boy
And Young Dolph fan i got the pretty white
Squares with the dragons
I made half a mil betting on the falcons
And I still giving dope to your daddy
Call me unc 'cuz you know I fuck your mammy
26 and straight eight, with the head back
Getting head from your momma with a jimmy
Red fours on a red and black bentley
Crip blue fortune looking just like panties
Overweight nigga but I'm riding on skinnies
Just hit a lick so I'm finna spend plenty
Pull up in the club I
Ain't throwing them a 20
I at least made 20 mil along i20
20 years old yeah 20 fucking licks
20 year old gucci 20 year old bitch
80 rows and I'm 30 years old
With the suicide doors and a
Ride or die bitch got a call from a nigga
Said "daddy wanna please me"
Tell me where you wanna come then
So he can meet me
Pull up with a mac 11 right
Up from the front street
Ain't no nigga gon' jump me
A nigga gon' chump me
Just got a call that my dawg got some static
(word) got the car keys and the
Choppers out the attic (yeah)
It's the part of the game
Where shit's getting tragic
Nigga say he got problems we
Gotta let him have it
Bought a couple AK's and a couple carbines
(ey) my dawg been robbing now we
Got a couple problems (fuck)
He wrong or he right bitch
We shootin on sight
Burn your main man house down the
Next morning catch a flight, aight
Check him up out of here hope
He told his family goodnight (bye bye)
Thanks to breaking down these bails I
Done lived the good life (yeah)
We out in Vegas partying
Like ain't shit happened
Out here fucking with these bitches
Tryna see what hapnin
I hate bitch ass niggas with a passion
I had to leave ain't got no
Time for no question askin'
Feet kicked up smoking and relaxin'
Shoot a nigga ass out, John Paxson
I'm the type a nigga that'll
Shoot you in public
Ran into a nigga that i robbed in Publix
I said I heard you looking for me
And he tried to change the subject
Had that pistol in my brief
Said he thought I wouldn't up it
Up the tone on him now
He runnin through the Publix
Somebody called the police 'cuz they thought
I was gonna bust him
I ain't give shit back that
Is not up for discussion
You shoulda known zone 6 boys
Ain't to be trusted
I pull up in a ticket and
He pull up in a cutlass
If the nigga hit a roast
Than the pussy nigga lucky
I might pull up in a rolls royce
He pull up in a bucket
Yeah I rob your homeboy but
I ain't motherfucking ducking
If you see me in the club
Better keep on trucking
'cuz these niggas on that fuck shit
And I ain't with that fuckery
Got a pistol on me dawg, man
Yea it's the Crest in me
Matter fact, two pistols
Can't let you get the best of me
It was 1998 when I first learned the recipe
I was buying dope, cook
Man those fuckers was catching me
Hit 6 licks quick
Man the lord he was blessing me
Got a carbine and a tec
Got a whole lotta weaponry
Hundred thou off the dough
Wearing gold off the ecstasy
Big cat pulled a move
Man a nigga was finessin
But I broke off and got a million on my own
Professionally made my first
Second mill put that pistol on that Mexican
WRITERS
SCOTT MCCAUGHEY
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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