[Intro]
Uh (Errol)
Microphone, ayo
[Chorus]
Dead winner, head splitter
The go-getters go get it and I wait for 'em, lay for 'em
Soon as they show, it's game time at the Forum, pray for 'em
The simplicity of being a robber is
As natural to me as a one and a half with the grain to a seasoned barber
Ain't no mine or "our fathers" or cries during the duet that's gon' suppress the ambition of supreme pursuers
Homie was drunk off pineapple juice and Kahlua
[Verse 1]
When I seen his AP with the camouflage band, glittеring above his hand
My bright smile disarmed him, couplеd with the, "Peace, God," it calmed him
Took four more steps, spun on and bombed him
Give me that, idiot, before he could pivot back, I was on him
Another game at the Forum
Microphone
[Interlude]
Nigga, this you? (Uh)
Nigga disrespect my jooks, man, I'm clappin' you
That's it, man
I'm clappin' you, man, all that shit right there (Microphone)
If you in arm's length or arm's reach of me, man, you like some to write a gift (Ayo)
Man that's invitin' him
I got you, that's just how it goes (Hol' up)
[Verse 2]
My honey from Brooklyn, I know the one-twenty
Her pops used to get wild money in NC
Or could've been Roanoke with the guard and them, so and so
Heard he hit a lick for ten things with a tre pound, old as polio
It's criminality in my chromosomes
Cash money relieve pain faster than cortisone
Quarter zones and He-Man
Sold a spot in Spartanburg for 700, 650 if I see you running
Lil' homie from Greenville keep that paper coming
He spent thirty with me last week and he's spinning back
He said what he just spent, he doubling that
Is it the same thing? Believe that, come on back
Chrome Heart hat with the lips on it
Frost grade dope with the mix on it
Project bench, doing dips on it
Sparks Steakhouse alumni
Heron' residue on my nails like fungi
Chanel sneakers tied almost to the top
Bitch, don't stop sucking, I'm almost to the top
This can't be the cool table if they here, why would I play fair?
Microphone, ayo, look, uh
[Chorus]
Dead winner, head splitter
The go-getters go get it and I wait for 'em, lay for 'em
Soon as they show, it's game time at the Forum, pray for 'em
The simplicity of being a robber is
As natural to me as a one and a half with the grain to a seasoned barber
Ain't no mine or "our fathers" or cries during the duet that's gon' suppress the ambition of supreme pursuers
Homie was drunk off pineapple juice and Kahlua
[Outro]
Man, listen (Cyberspace), whoever the fuck
I'm tough, son, I'm a street nigga
I respect the jooks, so it ain't about
You know, "You ain't givin' our heads a lot of narrative," or whatever
A nigga ain't givin' up they shit
Or they sayin' that, they gon' die for this chain and all this
You might just have to
Ah, you might just have to, my nigga
A lot, wild niggas say that 'til they get clapped
That's all I know niggas would take at all
