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ft. Chink Santana
I havenât been up this early in a long time
Turned on the TV this morning, heard the shit on the box
About living in a violent, violent world
Showed all these foreign places, foreigners live in them
Started thinking man, thinking they donât know
On a shelf, we all camp out, whatâs going on with the whole world
Buy ahead and pour out liquor for my dead homies
Finna flying kites at my fed homies
And the dogs upstate with a bad only
In a locker if we pop you itâs your head only
We only kick drug dealer tales
Another story where you hear a drug dealer tale
I mean these niggas, they ainât holding water
Shit, my watch trippy like a frozen water
Can I live then we go to Florida
KOD on Mondays, hey, you know the order
My dope boys are my sole supporters
Way too many stories of opposing porters
Niggas fronting like they have half frozen quarters
Six pack, man, and a roll of quarters
We was supposed to front the laundry man
With the mad motherfucker, better honor that
Old niggas coming home for them long stretches
We just hope the war is so raw it stretches
Hope the young niggas donât get the wrong message
But listen close and you can clearly hear the songâs message
Iâm took in, try to tell you them trees cold
Soon as they catch their case then bitch niggas fold
Ainât no more honor in these streets
Soon as they get their heat forget that CODE
You should go on, gone and buck them
Fuck their families, their kids and their momma, just gonna fuck âem
If you heard the telling, just go and fuck âem
This is back in the game, betrayed and go fuck âem
My memory is like a cemetery
Heaven just of memories of men I buried
So many cars, man, they tend to vary
So many niggas coming home, they say their plan was scary
So I respect them for that truthful fact
But itâs baiting disrespect when my wolf go back
Iâm not a saint like a lot today, but I take niggas to church on Saturday
Iâm talking black suits for everybody
We getting money, buying black coupes for everybody
Uncle Rick was in the kitchen, cooking
I was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking
There was hammers in the doors of every whip Iâm pushing
I could spend a couple grand on any nigga looking
I remember selling coke at a rapid pace
On the highway just focus on the traffic plates
Well, thatâs another trick Iâll tell you about
And donât trip if you slip, weâll bail you out
Well, letâs now pay the waiting game
We gonna wait to see if he gonna say some names
Iâm took in, try to tell you them trees cold
Soon as they catch their case then bitch niggas fold
Ainât no more honor in these streets
Soon as they get their heat forget that CODE
You should go on, gone and buck them
Fuck their families, their kids and their momma, just gonna fuck âem
If you heard the telling, just go and fuck âem
This is back in the game, betrayed and go fuck âem
- Album:
- ThemeAddict The Music V6
- The Kitchen
- We Own the Night, Pt. 2: Memoirs of a Hustler (EP)
- Vampire Life 3
- We Own the Night (EP)
- Nocturnal
- Capo Status 3
- Capo
- Pray IV Reign
- M.O.B. - The Album
- Harlem: Diary Of A Summer
- On My Way To Church
- Miscellaneous
- Blow Your Smoke (Single)
- In Studio
- Perfect Day (Single)
- A Vampire In Harlem
- Non-Album Releases
- Nasty Girl (feat. Jeremih & DJ Spinking) - Single
- R&B Collection