| We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top
|
| We rise and fall, but the game don’t stop
|
| We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top
|
| Real estate cars, and them big shiny rocks
|
| We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top
|
| Family first, fuck with that and get popped
|
| We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top
|
| We live and die, but the game don’t stop
|
| Fat boy killer man, cut like a guillotine
|
| Off with a nigga head, my style ain’t free
|
| Bloody body parts, pop hearts and stop breathing
|
| Nutty niggas only need a reason, reach under the seat and
|
| Grab the heat, and make that fire jump up out my window
|
| I bet them bitches, won’t be coming round here talking no mo'
|
| Ay yo, dirty lyrics bring out evil spirits
|
| I must be evil, wouldn’t talk it if I didn’t live it
|
| Wouldn’t live it if I couldn’t take it, please believe it
|
| Please believe, that if a nigga disrespect he bleeding
|
| I put that on them little niggas, at the crib I’m feeding
|
| Do whatever, trying to get the shit that they be needing
|
| Touch the streets, and get my feet muddy
|
| For them dead presidents, pimp a hoe like Cuddy
|
| Like Bubba Sparxxx we get ugly, remember that
|
| For that bread niggas willing to go, to hell and back
|
| If your cash is mean, let me hear you scream and rush it
|
| Hood rich fake ass niggas, y’all gotta love it
|
| Get mine, battle the streets and keep it locked
|
| Loading and cocking Glocks, jamming slowed down Pac
|
| Twist it and make it pop, close it and open shop
|
| Bottom straight to the top, smoking on that Cali crop
|
| City that’s do or die, kill you behind a lie
|
| Open the pigeon coop, and let the street birds fly
|
| Murder and racketeer, FED’s won’t disappear
|
| Push it and hit the gear, pray for another year
|
| Lifetime, and the click be rumbling
|
| Raised in the hood mayn, where the heads be tumbling
|
| Boys be stumbling, living in sadness
|
| Broke as fuck, they can’t shake the madness
|
| A savage, plus I don’t give a damn
|
| Get rich and live it up, with the rest of the fam
|
| Gotta rise to the top, cause the bottom too crowded
|
| It’s like crabs in a bucket, and they holding me down
|
| That’s why I’m on the block with the rocket, I’m holding a pound
|
| Inside the booth spitting, he’s controlling the sound
|
| And we controlling the town, got the keys to the city
|
| Rains trains or airplanes, I got the keys to the city
|
| It’s Killa, Ball and Ke we CMG
|
| Custom Made Gangstaz, we CMG’s
|
| It don’t take a set of binoculars, to see we G’s
|
| Got a eye for this do' nigga, so we see them G’s
|
| And I done finally made it, cause I’m sick with the rap
|
| Spit lyrics like cold bro, I’m sick with the rap
|
| When the Glock start coughing, I’m sick with the strap
|
| Behind money, I’d make your face stick to your lap
|
| Gotta make it to the top bro, you can’t deny my mail
|
| Cause I rap so well, they had to put my teeth in jail it’s Killa |