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

So sick of these, fake niggas
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 nigga 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 niggas ain´t real at all
Grab them by the collar, a few dollars will get them lost
I´m in the roots where the niggas die shots fired
You know this nigga
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 niggas 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

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