Bitch I’m in it to win it
Salute me like a lieutenant
Rolling stoned in the Caddy
Kush clouds blur my vision
I can see you lame niggas
Out of sight, out of mind
Check your watch little homie
Oh man it’s just my time
I go beast on any beat
Rest In Peace, second line
If you just hearing bout me
Go catch up you far behind
I do my thing in this bitch
Represent that east side
Blowing OG while I creep in my G ride
Moving slowly down the street
Throw up the peace sign
To my youngings on the block
Trying to eat off nicks and dimes
Playing the corner with the Glocks
Come up short they’re popping out
They’re bout wilding they’re bout drama
They ain’t letting nothing slide
If you wanna set trip then it’s gon' be a homicide
If you ain’t bout that life then it’s best you stay inside
Nigga lets ride, nigga lets ride
Roll that kush, put it to the fire
Inhale exhale, lets get high
Let’s get this money we’ll never die (you know)
This that 40 sipping, finger twisting, gangster shit
Fresh as fuck, banger tucked, what you see is what you get
Cruising up and down the strip
Yeah I’m smoking out the whip
Higher than 1,000 pounds
Nigga I stay on my shit
(Yo) The 9 mil I keep by my bed
It’s for my bitches, when I fuck I press it on their heads
And pull the trigger with no clip in it
Even though I’m that nigga
I’m trading drug business when I’m on the shitter
I’m paranoid, two Desert Eagles in my catalogue
Til my bitch like Lara Croft
I could deliver the brick if you add a couple yards
I’m just a dealer,
24 hour grind, 5 minute showers
Got my dough up, gonna blow up like the fucking towers
Fucking cowards every sixteen sour
I wanna get it
Maybe I’ll die tomorrow
But I’m going to live today
You just a little giant
Danny O’Shea
I’m just a young Papi
With an old fade
My flow genuine like a
You can’t shake the unshakeable
Fade the unfadable, play the unplayable
Puerto Rican rum and that’s my bloodline
I need my holy water I confess
Used to sell drugs on that project bench
Used to duck D’s climb the project fence
Had to be low like the project’s rent
You clearly don’t have clue about project sense
I’m Paris, my name’s French
Connections will get you sentenced
And mentions will get you pressed
Like working out on that bench
My pockets were full on lint
Talking (?) bish
Living that life that will have your wife missing
For really the east side like the old kid Kurupt
Fiends stay on line like I give them free traps
Fiends been online since the AOL trials
Black nines, black gloves like the OJ trial (pow)
This that 40 sipping, finger twisting, gangster shit
Fresh as fuck, banger tucked, what you see is what you get
Cruising up and down the strip
Yeah I’m smoking out the whip
Higher than 1,000 pounds
Nigga I stay on my shit