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Cheech & Chong Skit: Yeah, you pour wax on the table, uh huh, and you set it on fire Jim Jones: (Dipset) Uh, yeah (Uh) You know (Let's do it) This that dope boy shit nigga (Ya dig) Ya smell me (Can't) fuck wit' ya [Verse 1: Jim Jones] Your reign on the top, short like leprauchans I came through in drops, Porches, and heavy charms And I came from the block, was flawless with ex-cons And we aimin' them Glocks, of course ready to bomb Now I done seen a custy cop four pies of the same gear I also seen a nigga cop four rides in the same year The concrete jungle, no trees to swing from Just weed and gettin' drunk And heaters gettin' dumped Or hit the highway nigga, keys up in the trunk Back up in the city with some skeezers in the Trump I ain't a playa but I do my dirt dog Droptop Mercedes, better move when it murk off I got it swayin' to the left lane Plus a nigga coughin' cuz the haze give me chest pain Yes muthafucka, the boys are back With my vest and I'm tucked up with my boys in back, fucka Hook Max B: You don't want it with them niggaz While y'all wildin', steady bitchin' my niggaz gettin' richer Bet you mad cuz we eatin', bet you mad cuz we decent Chop your body in pieces, leave you in bags by the precinct Nigga we a regime, Byrdgang we the truth Even four in Sedan, I'm swerving in the Coupe See us whippin' the Benz, while swervin' in the Coupe Oak wooden interiors, Persians in the roof Shoot (Ruger) Shoot (Ruger) Verse 2 Hell Rell: Aw man, Hell Rell, he on the same bullshit again Same black hoodie, yup Same 4-5th again Bitches stopped liking me but now they on my dick again See me in that Aston with my chain glistenin' Yeah I'm bustin' off the chrome Yeah I'm 'bout to off your dome Kill a mother and a father, kids go to foster homes Yeah I like to floss the chrome Nigga leave the boss alone See my neck and my wrist, I'm rockin' what it cost for homes Homie they don't call me Ruger for nuthin' Back out on these bitch niggaz, get that Ruger to dumpin' So don't run up on me nigga, you know I stay wit' it G'd up from my Beef & Brocs to the Oakland A's fitted That's the bottom to the top That's in the bottom of the pot I got it white, I got it tan, it's either you coppin' or you not Nigga jets is pulling off and you stuck on the curb D-I-P, B.G., fuck what you heard Ruger Hook Max B: You don't want it with them niggaz While y'all wildin', steady bitchin' my niggaz gettin' richer Bet you mad cuz we eatin', bet you mad cuz we decent Chop your body in pieces, leave you in bags by the precinct Nigga we a regime, Byrdgang we the truth Even four in Sedan, I'm swerving in the Coupe See us whippin' the Benz, while swervin' in the Coupe Oak wooden interiors, Persians in the roof Shoot (shoot) Shoot (shoot) Verse 3 Jim Jones: We all strapped in the ride, I ain't talkin like the elderly Yak when we drive, like we rollin' fuckin' felony Trap to survive, get the buck selling keys It's hard to get by, that's why we puff hella weed But if this high don't come down I feel the walls spinnin' like the sky gon' come down I need air, top of the ride gon' come down And I swear I stay fly when i jump out Jeweled up in ice, that bent that dude like Spyda, 430, with the blueish lights Got the Coupe bright, but we still shoot dice For my niggaz on the Eastside, this is true life Hook Max B: You don't want it with them niggaz While y'all wildin', steady bitchin' my niggaz gettin' richer Bet you mad cuz we eatin', bet you mad cuz we decent Chop your body in pieces, leave you in bags by the precinct Nigga we a regime, Byrdgang we the truth Even four in Sedan, I'm swerving in the Coupe See us whippin' the Benz, while swervin' in the Coupe Oak wooden interiors, Persians in the roof Shoot (shoot) Shoot (shoot) |