Lyrics

INTRO:
Something for the real niggas.

VERSE-1
Off the weed with thoughts of an assassin-Counting cash from my last transaction-Dice game crackin, savages huddle, tuck bundles, get comfortable and shift the muzzle. Game point nigga what is it, I think money. Game point hit, I'ma get it and go dumby... talk shit, knock this and raise the bets. I give niggas the business with no forgiveness left. Tune into my tunes and inhale the fumes and be consumed by rules of the game and pay dues. I speak the truth so don't be confused. The streets deep, I beat it in these shoes. A mind full of memories, lives at stake... why ask why my replies remain vague. I get mine like a mime and don't say... ride and don't complain, it's all apart of the game.

HOOK:
Real niggas 'gon knock this, from block to block keeping the trunks throbbing. They get enthused by my music and keep mobbing. Bitches will keep jocking keeping the streets knodding. [repeat]

VERSE-2
And it is what it is... dope like coca-nose with more on your dollar bills. The rap's crack like that's what's up. I spit raw and uncut like it's stuck on my gums. Don't get it twitted nigga you can get a little, I keep it simple for niggas to feel it and then wiggle. Let it ride like it slide in your pistol and inspire you to kill'm off over an instrumental. Give'm the feeling to live a little. It'll literally have you tipsy with liquor on your liver. Bobbing like a pigeon, trapping for cash, macking at these women trying to get you some ass. I set the mood, music gets you out a slump and in a mindstate tough enough and to say fuck it... niggas it's nothing, we 'gon do it, get away and get paid, influenced to do it moving.

HOOK:
Real niggas 'gon knock this, from block to block keeping the trunks throbbing. They get enthused by my music and keep mobbing. Bitches will keep jocking keeping the streets knodding. [repeat]

Verse-3
I come with the rough rugged and smooth shit and bust up out the cuts like I've infected the wounded. Your big mouth's like denim, glove box, back seat, trunk... guns fit right in'm. I take pain the game gave to come up off hardships that came my way. I just may parlay, kick back, relax or pull your card and go hard all day. I give a fuck about a sucker trying to hate. I been brave and ain't a damn thing changed since eighth grade. So what's really guerilla? I go apes, eat beef like steak and gain weight.

HOOK:
Real niggas 'gon knock this, from block to block keeping the trunks throbbing. They get enthused by my music and keep mobbing. Bitches will keep jocking keeping the streets knodding. [repeat]