We in the whip like a spaceship
We love AK clips and give E's to them Playboy chicks
You can't blow when you hate on men
Sit back, wait on men who carp tongue, snaking their friend
In the hood it's against all odds, who got sixteen bars?
Fast money for them luxury cars
I was formed in the image of God, I ain't material
Still stay strapped with the scratched off serial
Though, I'm Sinatra with a 'Pocketful of Miracles'
Yeah I got ears but I'm still not hearing you
I'm back with the hood on smash
I rock an old gold Maccabee badge
And the dead president mass
When I spit my nigga, it's teargas
Go tell your record label, kiss my ass
I'm a BK soldier, ratchet out the holster
Live with the poor, sell weed, crack and coke up
Never mix Hennessey with no soda
Shorty want to two-way page the Motorola
I show you how to get them mature and much older
Independent women and shit just like Oprah
You floss with a Cristalle bottle, I sip Coronas
And still got a fish out model that wanna bone us
This style be a tax right off, I be the owners, six games wanna clone us
I got AKs and Testarossa's 'til this war up in both coast's
This is hip-hop hypnoses, so everybody get a bit focused
I send this out to my strip pokers
Gun tokers and them blunt smokers... aiyo pass my weed back
I'm a brand new gun in the box
Got hoes online like Macintosh PowerBook laptop
Got one million in the suitcase, tax free
Help me lose weight in fifty two states
'Banksta', black millionaire, America's nightmare
The ghetto got the government and White House scared
'Cause we got our own power now besides careers
I say, "Cheers for my people upstairs"
Tell God, "Leave me a chair", everyday evil is near
My eagle is there, the reason only God I fear
GGO, certified [? ]
W-2 Video (MV)
Hell Razah - W-2 Lyrics
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We in the whip like a spaceship
We love AK clips and give E's to them Playboy chicks
You can't blow when you hate on men
Sit back, wait on men who carp tongue, snaking their friend
In the hood it's against all odds, who got sixteen bars?
Fast money for them luxury cars
I was formed in the image of God, I ain't material
Still stay strapped with the scratched off serial
Though, I'm Sinatra with a 'Pocketful of Miracles'
Yeah I got ears but I'm still not hearing you
I'm back with the hood on smash
I rock an old gold Maccabee badge
And the dead president mass
When I spit my nigga, it's teargas
Go tell your record label, kiss my ass
I'm a BK soldier, ratchet out the holster
Live with the poor, sell weed, crack and coke up
Never mix Hennessey with no soda
Shorty want to two-way page the Motorola
I show you how to get them mature and much older
Independent women and shit just like Oprah
You floss with a Cristalle bottle, I sip Coronas
And still got a fish out model that wanna bone us
This style be a tax right off, I be the owners, six games wanna clone us
I got AKs and Testarossa's 'til this war up in both coast's
This is hip-hop hypnoses, so everybody get a bit focused
I send this out to my strip pokers
Gun tokers and them blunt smokers... aiyo pass my weed back
I'm a brand new gun in the box
Got hoes online like Macintosh PowerBook laptop
Got one million in the suitcase, tax free
Help me lose weight in fifty two states
'Banksta', black millionaire, America's nightmare
The ghetto got the government and White House scared
'Cause we got our own power now besides careers
I say, "Cheers for my people upstairs"
Tell God, "Leave me a chair", everyday evil is near
My eagle is there, the reason only God I fear
GGO, certified [? ]
We love AK clips and give E's to them Playboy chicks
You can't blow when you hate on men
Sit back, wait on men who carp tongue, snaking their friend
In the hood it's against all odds, who got sixteen bars?
Fast money for them luxury cars
I was formed in the image of God, I ain't material
Still stay strapped with the scratched off serial
Though, I'm Sinatra with a 'Pocketful of Miracles'
Yeah I got ears but I'm still not hearing you
I'm back with the hood on smash
I rock an old gold Maccabee badge
And the dead president mass
When I spit my nigga, it's teargas
Go tell your record label, kiss my ass
I'm a BK soldier, ratchet out the holster
Live with the poor, sell weed, crack and coke up
Never mix Hennessey with no soda
Shorty want to two-way page the Motorola
I show you how to get them mature and much older
Independent women and shit just like Oprah
You floss with a Cristalle bottle, I sip Coronas
And still got a fish out model that wanna bone us
This style be a tax right off, I be the owners, six games wanna clone us
I got AKs and Testarossa's 'til this war up in both coast's
This is hip-hop hypnoses, so everybody get a bit focused
I send this out to my strip pokers
Gun tokers and them blunt smokers... aiyo pass my weed back
I'm a brand new gun in the box
Got hoes online like Macintosh PowerBook laptop
Got one million in the suitcase, tax free
Help me lose weight in fifty two states
'Banksta', black millionaire, America's nightmare
The ghetto got the government and White House scared
'Cause we got our own power now besides careers
I say, "Cheers for my people upstairs"
Tell God, "Leave me a chair", everyday evil is near
My eagle is there, the reason only God I fear
GGO, certified [? ]