Benz Sprinter

[Intro: Rosco P. Coldchain] Uh Real P Keep pushing I don't hustle, man Look [Verse: Rosco P. Coldchain] Parked up in the truck sitting up looking pretty [?] about thirty with me I spend it like I print it US minted, if I said it then I meant it So much I had to whip it with a cement mixer Black Benz Sprinter, Hennessey in the spritzer Drunk at the kid's bar mitzvah White line will dirty up your dishes Straight out of hell's kitchen Crushed out, well, enough for you to sniff it, it's good stuff When your tongue's numbing up, you ain't even have to lick it Enough talk I ain't gotta lie to kick it Just buy something [?] you're wasting your time frontin' If I'm not the right frame of mind, I'm downing something I'm tryna clock a tickеt and stick it on your windshield And show you niggas just how I did it I'm watching you watching us Watching them suiting up They raid thе wrong spot Trapping right down the block from the police district Pitching inconspicuous with the Smith & Wesson I pull out, don't forget to chip in Money's in the bag 'cause I'm all the way in my duffel Prepping, preparing myself for the consequences Reckless, hitting these hoes without protection Dumping [?] Nine months, who checking No second chance at a first impression At first glace I can tell you the type to make a confession Nigga, I know your kind 'cause I did hard time Been around the world twice and the streets since I was nine Got blood on my hands, all theirs, not mine All's fair in love and war So when I sleep, I rest fine, nigga God's perfect, everything in life is meant I know he's working, I'm a servant You a serpent, see you lurking, this a circus I'm an angel with a halo 'round my neck Whip that chicken like at Church's Gotta pay me for these sermons I will be in the trap house rolling up hemp Smoking [?] coke look like popcorn shrimp On an air mattress with a uptown bitch If you can stack a hundred grand, you considered hood rich In the slums how I was done, slap a drum on a hand gun And just start shooting and hope that it land one Youngin tried to make [?] and pedalled up on a bike Xannied up, shot the lady up and her damn son It was me on that fifteen trolley A pack of Swiss Rolls, had to split it with the homies Then I started seeing real cake like Little Debbie And learned how to fold the paper up like origami Forty-five in the Tommy, Hilfiger drawers on my body I'm quick to cold cut a bitch off like pastrami Got a [?] for a c-note, 'cause she will if she don't And these hoes will do anything for a dollar, so keep going [Outro: Rosco P. Coldchain] [?] let it fly (Let it fly) And I will, and I will And I will, and I will Let's go Sweatsuit got a butterfly