[ Featuring Pressa ]
My heart'll cry
This shit hurt
I add an extra lil' grabba for the kicker
I come from homicides, show you how my life turned
Me and the killers can relate out in Glock burn
I talk to myself, I'm like wonderin'
All this love that I put in the streets, I get it back
I'm so for the team, I ain't a renegade
I'd be lyin' if I said I ain't do it with the gang
See Getti whip the pot with the presi' in his hand
This Glock so dirty, I might sell it for a rack
I middle manned the brick and happy that I made a band
I'll show you what my youngin he'll do for forty grand
Lawyer fees add up, plus I'm throwin' it in Sam's
There's times I tied him up and had to ask for hunnid grand
I seen lil' homie slide and come back to the block a man
Bring me back to the times, bring me back my right hand
I grow with sinners
Then we turned to winners
Started off with petty crime, and then we turned to killers
He asked me if I hit it, I said, "Mind your business"
Now I'm in Jamaica chillin' with the finest women
It ain't nothin' for my thug to go and load the clip in
It ain't nothin' for my killer them to catch you slippin'
Did a three-point, treat it like I'm Scottie Pippin
You one of them, boy, then deal with that nigga wicked
On the A side, we don't tek chat
Blow a bag in a store, it get mek back
On a bad ground, it's a death trap
Even when I take a piss, the drillers got my head back
Run a program on me, go get your bread back
Overplayed my part, I had to step back
Stepped in the place, nigga, we the get backs
Nine hour flights really got a nigga jet lagged
My heart'll cry
This shit hurt
I add an extra lil' grabba for the kicker
I come from homicides, show you how my life turned
Me and the killers can relate out in Glock burn
My heart'll cry
This shit hurt
I add an extra lil' grabba for the kicker
We war-ready
We go eye for eye
My glizzy singin' in the street just like a lullaby
Load another clip
F*ck it, get me lit
I ain't got no time to link, I'm busy gettin' rich
Me and broski hardly speak, he too busy flippin' bricks
F*ck a opp, f*ck a snitch, you ain't straight, you a bitch
Kilo 'round my neck, it's got me feelin' like I'm Rick
Skrrtin' in the Lambo got me feelin' kinda sick
She a gold digger and that nigga, he a trick
War-ready, what you think? Get that nigga with a flicks
We war-ready, baby, so we suit up in the cut
Revenge is a promise, crodie tatted on his arm
A million ain't shit, they used to tell me it be hard
Gave my life to the block, but they tell me I'm a star
I'm with the murder squad, they ain't like that
Crodie rappin' 'bout my works like he my hype man
See I was out there in the field just like a linebacker
If rap don't work, I'm back trappin', need my line back
My heart'll cry
This shit hurt
I add an extra lil' grabba for the kicker
I come from homicides, show you how my life turned
Me and the killers can relate out in Glock burn
My heart'll cry
This shit hurt
I add an extra lil' grabba for the kicker
We war-ready
We go eye for eye
My glizzy singin' in the street just like a lullaby
