Rastaman them after respect me
You got money?
But you a rent
I'ma respect that


So sick of these, fake n***as
Shaking their ass
Knowing god damn well they don't spray it then blast
They the type to go to jail, be mistaken for fags
They the type to point at a n***a face in the glass
So look how I felt
We could meet up and leave
Mother fuck who don't like it
Beat up the streets
Drought came we kick our feet up and eat
Gotta love the way my daddy put a key up for me
Re-up, put about three up a week
My mother keep telling me the game ain't nothing
Some would never crack a frown or complain when the money come
Never backing down I'm insane I ain't never run
Do them like tags on shirts and rip them off
I ain't feeling them
They keep flenching, kill them off what the business is
You n***as ain't real at all
Grab them by the collar, a few dollars will get them lost
I'm in the roots where the n***as die shots fired
You know this n***a
Kevin Gates, rottweiler
Same shit
Money doing a bad, Reezy doing a bid, Mail doing a bid, B doing a bid, Seven doing a bid
Last night, bitch ass n***as shooting at wig
That's the life that we live and it's all that
They say the game ain't shit but it's all fair
[Outro]
Fuck this fucking war, all this beef over a couple of corners. Don't matter who did what to who at this point, the fact is we went to war and now there ain't no war in that. I mean shit, it's what war is you know and once you in it, you in it. If it's a lie then we fight on that lie, but we got to fight