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HOOK:
Friday morn yeah my broad she's gone, brushed my teeth, washed my dick, checked my head, put my Nikes on. Hit the liquor store for some mo' grabbed a half pint hit the door. Hit the door checking traps that I set last week got in my drop left my top stopped on every street. Pulled up on the cut had to post up to make it multiply, poured some drank on the ground for some folks who died. Niggas was charging passing forties acting silly, separating seeds from out the bomb rolling Phillies. But see I can't get stuck in case some niggas wanna buck and since I lost my Tec that night I got this nine millimeter kept tight. Posted up wit' my yak in hand brown bag, Philly zags and chaboes that sag. I just might earl if I slip up fuck wit that juice wit' gin ain't no thang just get some grub and do it over again. See it's that central side of richtown shit niggas get blunted weight get fronted steady folding a grip. Turn up the bump cause we smobb like that roll up them windows light
that J and pass that cognac.
HOOK:
Fucked up off that yak & sack pager blowing up my hip cause I slept like that. On the floor down to my knees reaching for that brown paper bag to Mickey D's. Head spinning rooms moving hard earled in the bag parked in the front yard. Got up on my feet went to the bathroom used the seat, grabbed a magazine slammed the door dropped heat. Hopped up in the shower wet myself then I dressed up threw on some cologne hit the door and was gone. Back to the spot where it's on mean muggin' foes hollering at you neighborhood hoes. Pockets full of scrill thought you knew though watch me go post up handle my biz and get a few mo'. To put it half on the bombsack call up the crew hey ya'll come through and bring that cognac.