Hahaha (Hahaha)
C5, D-Block, L-O-X
You know?
Yeah, yeah

Say the judge or the jury can’t spoil this
Nah, two thirds of the world’s most loyalest
I’ma shoot em, I’ma pay the bail, I’m sure of this
I’ma kill em, I’ma get the witness, teach ’em more of this
We never sing, not even on a song, where the chorus is
Dig the hole, get the wood box, bring the florist in
Tell the pastor, tell the family, we was just warnin’ them
38’s, 45’s, all type of Tauruses
About to hit the bong, pour the Holy water in
Celebrating’, for participatin’, in the slaughterin’
Eatin’ steaks at the same spot, they killed Paulie in
Frank White’s three in the quarter, tapin’ your daughter in
Columbia with the connect, puttin’ the order in
Nigga act, we gon’ clap, like we the audience
Make sure you wipe down the strap, get rid of all the prints
Do your homework on, whoever you go to war against

I had 20s on my Benz, lend it to all my friends
And everything was all gravy, everything was all gravy
And if I need somethin’ call Baby, I need something call Baby
And the streets was callin’ me, but a nigga had call waitin’
And yeah we all went through our phases, we all went through our savings
Some niggas stayed on point, some niggas was point shavin’
And sometimes we had to be vegetables
That mean we had to stay patient, ’cause they say you are what you eat
I took the star out of starvation, bitch
I come from a Third World, started rappin’ in the fourth grade
Started trappin’ in the sixth grade, went platinum in the tenth grade
Dropped out, a nigga gettin’ paid, this when Birdman had a fade
This when Hummers didn’t come stretch, but Birdman had ’em made
This when pretty bitches set you up, and niggas didn’t give two fucks
You had two guns and two phones, you could waste time and get a new cup
But this when niggas had pimp cups, and new rappers got hemmed up
And all them niggas that’s bitin’ got they fins cut

I know real niggas gon’ fuck with this
Like, “That’s that shit I be talkin’ ’bout”
I know real niggas gon’ fuck with this
Like, “That’s that shit I be talkin’ ’bout”

And we gon’ be around ’til yo motherfuckin’ body rot
And if the Feds bring us in, we get the same time Gotti got
And if the Feds bring us in, we get the same time Gotti got
And if the Feds bring us in, we get the same time Gotti got

Uh
But this when niggas had pimp cups, and dirty money got rinsed up
And the early birds in the wormhole would get so fat that they’d get stuck
We’d clean our fingerprints up, we’d clean the shit we didn’t touch
This when niggas called Diddy Puff, lettin’ Biggie bump
While I’m sittin’ up in that big body, I can show you a dead body
Lotta niggas got pinched, and the snitches ended up dead lobsters
Wrap the birds in red tape, call them bitches Red Robins
Pops had kilos, I needed one ki I would’ve made copies
Free my niggas down and Rest In Peace to all my dead partners
I smoke ’bout a pound in like a week, and fuck the Weight Watchers
Got my self a brand new triple beam, just to weigh options
I stumbled upon a gold mine, I thank God that it ain’t copper
Some niggas were late bloomers, but, boy, look how they’ve blossomed
Don’t know niggas that wear wires but I know niggas that go haywire
I know hoes that play possum, and will bring us to y’all mailboxes
And dead man can’t talk and the Feds don’t have séances
Look, you put a knot on the end of a condom full of drugs and put it in her pussy
And get through customs, ’cause last time we just took em
I rather be blind before I be the nigga that stand around just lookin’
And you can beat around the bush and find a nigga layin’ behind them bushes

I know real niggas gon’ fuck with this
Like, “That’s that shit I be talkin’ ’bout”
I know real niggas gon’ fuck with this
Like, “That’s that shit I be talkin’ ’bout”

And we gon’ be around ’til yo motherfuckin’ body rot
And if the Feds bring us in, we get the same time Gotti got
And if the Feds bring us in, we get the same time Gotti got
And if the Feds bring us in, we get the same time Gotti got

C5