(Marc Boomin, this you?) What up, Marc Boomin? You know what´s up, you know It´s my last day out, know what I´m sayin´? I´m, I´ma go ´head kick it with y´all, show you how I´m livin´ right quick
That´s why I´ll be right back, though That shit ain´t shit
This my last day out, I´m finna jump fresh Pull a hundred K out, go to the set It´ll be God if I find a pint of Hi-Tech Gotta go out with a bang on my last sip Still got BMI checks I ain´t cash yet YouTube checks rollin´ in, I ain´t even check I wasn´t paranoid at all, I ain´t even sweat Twenty racks on the floor right now, I´ma need that Three years and eight months, I´ll be right back Quarter million put up, I could sleep like that But I´m really nervous, though, I can´t even cap I just bought my second crib and BM got the ´Lac Probably finna sell my 550, snatch off the wrap I can make a hundred racks quick, I just gotta rap
I know I´m out on fed bond, but I got a strap I got too many chains on, I ain´t tryna scrap Dick her down off a Perc´, made her wobble back I think I need to go to church, where my mama at? Gotta spend some time with my granny, where Big Mama at? I should bring her to the studio to watch me rap Your grandbaby doin´ good, just made another hundred My mama lost me to the state, me and my lil´ brother Baby Ghost, I told you to chill, we gotta get some money Just think about when mama used to make us split a hundred We gon´ be straight, though, I feel it in my stomach I dicked her down, bitch say she feel it in her stomach
I might turn myself in in a Prada jumper Just know when I get out, a helicopter comin´ Man, them bitches hit your baby with conspiracy Took the blame for a phone call, it wasn´t really me Them bitches grabbed, me, Ty, A, Lee, and my nigga C Talkin´ ´bout the fuckin´ City Boys, are you kiddin´ me? I don´t even know them niggas in my paperwork And I ain´t sayin´ nobody snitchin´ unless I see the paper first Yeah, I knocked the bitch out, but I maced her first ´Member stuntin´ at the gas station tryna take a purse Now I´m freestylin´, drinkin´ cough syrup, takin´ Percs
Yeah, I´ll post your mixtape, you gotta pay me first I know my fans probably mad I gotta leave ´em But I´ma still drop heat, y´all gotta stream it Even though it´s gon´ be a while ´fore y´all see me I´m comin´ back ten times harder, guarantee it What kind of diamonds in your chain? I can´t see ´em I got some Cookie loads ´round, they eighteen-ish Plea agreement came in, I ain´t read it Just give me all the time y´all want to, ´cause I ain´t see shit Just ´cause he got thirty months don´t mean he snitched If you ain´t see the evidence, then you can eat dick Forty-four months seem long, but it´s gon´ be quick
I might not even call a bitch ´til week six Can´t be mad, ´cause I signed up for this street shit Got it out the mud, I do not accept free shit Y´all gon´ miss me, though? Man, they lyin´ if they say Da Yung OG ain´t put the city on When you locked, they´ll treat you like you dead and gone Little do they know I´m comin´ home to a letter, bro Like an M or somethin´ And my bitch textin´ me like the dinner done Man, the opps cliqued up, I bought a bigger gun Seventeen-five just to get the kitchen done Bullets in the .308 look like a little thumb Alright, I got so much sauce on me like a chicken nugget
Dior B22s off the prison jumper I´ma be gone for a minute, but my niggas comin´
My niggas comin´ harder than ever Yeah, my niggas finna go hard Ghetto Boyz, bitch, on the yard, I´ma bogard Probably got fifty, sixty racks in my Goyard Nigga, you do not own a crib, you ain´t How the fuck you own a crib, you ??? AP, you ain´t got no yard? Ayy, I´ll be right back, though, look Ghetto Boyz in this bitch, nigga, free the whole ghetto Free C, free A, free Ri, free T, you know what I´m sayin´ My nigga Peezy back, Mike gon´ hold this shit down Louie gon´ hold this shit down
I got the Coochie Man Nigga, my best friends are fuckin´ talented entertainment Y´all gotta, ayy, y´all gotta deal with us Nigga, even when I´m gone, y´all gon´ have to deal with me, ´cause I´m still puttin´ pressure down And I´m givin´ you niggas a chance to catch back up, goddamnit I´m finna go, go down, lay down, go to sleep for three years, eight months Get some rest ´Cause when I come home, the pressure back on I´m back not sleepin´, I´m back in the studio on you niggas´ head I´m back droppin´ chains and watches and new cars Y´all niggas got three years to catch up, bro, I´m tellin´ you Shit on the floor, Ghetto Boyz