Lyrics
You betta keep your vest on your chest when I flex
Cause niggas be coming foul trying to put me to the test
I know what’s next, you wanna see if I’m a G to get my buck on Pistol grip to your dome while I gets my gauge on Looking at me like you looking at a J cat
But stupid tricks ain’t shit but hoodrats
Laying up in the cuts for a kick back
Looking for a nigga with some scrilla from the Fatt Sakk
So now we on 3rd hella perved
Swervin to the motherfucking curb off that herb
And niggas be looking but I don’t be trippin up off that punk shit
Houses I be browsin, poppin bitch after bitch
Flip the script as I blaze up a spliff with my nigga Richie Rich
We hitting the town letting niggas know I shoots the gift
You see me, I be from the Sucka Free
And ain’t a out of town G that can chuck with the
Three hundred pound nigga from the mack bay
I’m hitting switches, I’m blazing spliffs, I’m taking your bitches away
To the top with my Glock, your nigga can’t be stopped
So peep game while you waiting for my album to drop
I’m so sick when it comes to this
1−8 to the 7 mic murdering shit
I’m so sick with this
Big Mack that nigga that’s gonna rip the fucking stacks
I’m so sick when it comes to this
1−8 to the 7 mic murdering shit
I buck em buck em down with my gauge, I’m getting paid
Big Mack, Fatt Sakk nigga peep the flav
Rule motherfucking one, time to have some fun
I blaze another J, smashin up the motherfucking way foo'
I’m so sick with this, I’m so true to this
I grab the mic and pop the clip and release this gangsta shit
Yeah, I’m down with the Killahoe
Steel toed boots with my troops knocking down your door
Huh, so peep out this manuscript HP sucka free never trusting a bitch
About my grip, yeah, I gots to keep my scrilla on My motherfucking money makes me put my chrome to your dome
So now it’s on and we up in my nigga’s Benz
J.C., Fly Nate, and my nigga Rich
Droppin bombs on this fuck for your trunk
So nigga blaze up the skunk and watch me tear shit up
I’m like that nigga that don’t give a fuck
That nigga that’ll snap your neck quick
Don’t trip, cause I’m mackin your bitch and stackin my grip
Don’t trip, cause I’m spitting shit and making hits
Tearing up the strip with this Big Mack shit
Yeah, just like the sound when my Glock goes pop
Peep game while you waiting for my album to drop
I buck and dodge, I creep but I never crawl
I start the funk cause I’m known as this town’s dog
Now it’s the B-I-G, the M the A to the C You can never fuck around with this big Cuban beat, and uh Sucka mothafuckas betta pucker up These bitches on my team cause your nigga’s checking green
Uh, perpetrator, punk player hater
You better grab your Tec before I regulate like Darth Vader
For the playas, not the playa haters
Ain’t none of you got no game like me Ain’t none of you got no flava, save a muthafuckin hoe
And this is how we operate when we in the 'Sco
Rippin off of indo, car full of blunt smoke
Reaching for the window cause a nigga’s about to choke
But I take another hit before I get to pass
Ain’t trippin bout the paper but a nigga put in half
