I am living the game, hitting the fades, quick cash
Blink too fast you’ll be gone, no quicksand
This man ain’t giving a fuck for no middle man, middle class
Skipped class only class I knew, was S-Benz
Now pretend you never heard of me from a can of candy yams
And I was just a boy like killer cam
But now my print over your bitch, T-shirt
Glass skirt, research his work, iPhone Blackberry chirp
But it gets worse, how would you feel
Fresh of work, seeing this light-skinned jerk
After I’m all working your girlfriend purse
Damn ma, didn’t he fuck friend ha?
Yeah why? I thought that goofy bitch was lying
Guess not, bet not they won’t near us
Fear us, Y.M squadron
Young bloods
Nothing above eyebrows, G.E.D forever above
Studio, many yums, I ain’t fucking with the club
While you’re getting bub, I’m getting pub
These songs I mean, these songs be mean
Got your label warring, ’cause I’m making quality quantities
I got the holy spirit, but no father son

Now everybody know I’m shining in the coupe
No roof while I’m shitting on ’em
Rolling through the east side, Hollandwood is hitting for
I’m all about my hustle, need my chips so I could stack it up
Gone on the pill got me rolling like a Acura
Young-money nigga, yeah I’m back like I left something
You niggas is jaw-jacking, watch me sidestep son
Young nigga, got my money running like Barry
Bitches want my baby ’cause they heard about my salary
Make them dog hoes lay it down like balling g
Knock them bitches socks-loose, pass ’em off to Mallie G
All brown Maybach, you could say I’m yoohoo’n
All my niggas red-flagging you could see we soo woo’n

Dedication 3
I feel like these motherfuckers better know we’re next
I will like but never love them H-O-E-S
I fill a white tall cup full of codeine mix
I still eat a couple rappers for my protein bitch
I’m on my so-mean shit, you don’t know me bitch
I do it for those who done it before me bitch
My goons is gon’ ride even with a slow leak bitch
And then we eat some chicken, you get no piece bitch
Stunna man said kill ’em all, so still and all
I’m ‘a kill ’em all, murder them pussy hoes
I’m flyer then a butterfly doing the tootsie roll
Ha ha, I got chips like the cookie dough
And it takes a lot of paper to book a show
You wouldn’t know ’cause you couldn’t know
I’m who they’re looking to and who they’re looking for
And numbers don’t lie, lie
And numbers don’t lie, yeah
Yeah better hope your math is right
We take your body for a sacrifice
You see that flashing light, welcome to afterlife
I put on for them bitches, on, on for them bitches
I put on for them bitches, on, on
I put on for them bitches, on, on
I put on on