Rap Game Intro

[Verse]

Niggas in my hood say I can make it to the top

But, they know that I ain't cappin'

And my somethin' put it all up in his top

I know some good guys, get their savage on, kidnappin' on

Like, how long you been chattin' to the opps?

My niggas on tag

If I get a drop, he'll tag along

They ain't got racks, I'm baffled when they rap about shots

I ain't tryna give my heart unless I know that she the one

Look me in my eyes, promise me you'll never do me wrong

I tried act like I ain't 'bout it, she already clocked the hood in me

Half the hood's fake, I'm only bringin' half the hood with me

All I need's a mask, pair of gloves, and a hoodie beat

Niggas chat like bitches nowadays, make sure your pussy clean

Nothin' poppin' off on your behalf, fuck you talkin' 'bout?

Niggas say my name too much, that's all they talk about

We don't care 'bout work that you worked when we weren't about

You ain't workin' nothin' now

Don't be throwin' up gang signs with no money in your pockets

I got big dreams, I ain't pennyin' your silly comments

I got blood on my nigga's shank, but that's not my problem

Now there' plugs gettin' sucked, this half-box ain't on Connie

Niggas pointin' fingers, if they grab me, I won't point nothin'

If I don't bust in rappin', then it's back to wrappin' point ones

What you know about bein' desperate for a place for the ting to stay

So you tell her it's a toy gun?

Feel sorry for my opps, why? Most of them shit at rappin', shit at trappin'

Scorin' on civilians, shit at bangin'

Who said you can't wear sliders in the trenches?

I see opps in my Gucci flip-flops, still get it crackin'

Or the Louis ones, Christian Dior drops, but I prefer the Louis ones

I got clout, so it's not hard to get the bougie ones

They won't tell me nothin' 'bout no Hakkasan, Nobu, or cocktails

I bet I'll still pattern that

I ain't been bowlin' in time, but, I've been knockin' down hoes like pins, so I'm fine

I got rocks in my shine, rocks in this G-pack

It's not about wantin', the fiends'dem, they need that

I used to do the night shift, and back then I never had three bags

My outfit today cost me three bags

So don't say I've changed, you're just statin' the obvious

I used to watch my olders gettin' money with binoculars

I got the opposite sex cattin', banged up with a nigga

From my hood we spent most our time chattin', who's set's more on it

And comparin' our stabbings

He's got more, but I made a nigga white flag it

Feel like Charles Lee Ray with this Rammy

Or should I say Chucky?

See a opp, I'ma leave the scene yucky

All I need is twenty seconds, like, say I'm in a hurry

I was aimin' for his face, bro was rippin' out his tummy

I'm still the perfect son in the eyes of my mummy

Even though feds hit the yard tryna find bunnies

On the 'Gram, she a star, but not a star from where I'm comin'

Surgery head to toe, but to us she's still—Tst

If she ain't tryna hold the ones, then to us, she's on nothin'

She don't care that I'm Clavish, and that makes me wanna cuff it

She don't pop up when she sees my in the Urus or the Culli'

And that's still not enough to prove it's not about the money

Got some real shit tatted on my stomach

My watch two-tone, but it came with several different colours

Not a pride thing why I hold grudges

But you can't backdoor me and think we're still gonna be brothers

Four-forty all in rose

If you're talkin' 'bout opps, I've stabbed couple to the bone

Hotel, she ain't comin' to my home

Half the hood don't promote my songs when they drop

Don't know why the fuck they think they're comin' to my shows

In school, I used to rob phones, not sell cookies in the corridor

Signed to the streets way before I signed to Polydor

Young and I'm lit, probably why she mad it sloppy

Need a mizzy

Why you tryna get a quote for a dotty?

Rental link said he's got cars and he won't make a drink

But I don't want it if it's possible to see me through the tint

Anxiety through the roof when they sent me to the bin

Are they fans? Or they foes?

When I see them on the wing

I can pull up at the garden and flood it with ice

One rambo ain't enough, I gotta roll with it twice

Yeah, I miss the days when Billy was 'live

He used to roll with his gun more than you lil' niggas roll with your knives

Got dreams of winnin' some awards

Nightmares of turnin' somethin' corpse then after gettin' caught

I'm lookin' at my guys in this dinger, "Nigga, is you short?"

Thirty years sounds long, not short

Then Jung try put the shoes in his thoughts

This .38's nearly .40

I just want the thing locked

Why's she tellin' me she's horny?

Probably somethin' 'bout guns

If I'm callin' piss, nana never got to see me ballin'

Never got to see me tourin', never got to see me ramboin' up niggas in the mornin'

Never got to see me go into the jewellers, don't care that the pouch is LV

The pouch is where the tool is

If you're in the club without it, then you're foolish

And I'm not a fool

I don't even try, I just always come across as cool

I can't even lie, when I cheffed that little dickhead and the girl, yo

And all my niggas watched and saw me do that shit as well, what a goal

I'm tellin' fiends, "I still got that shit for sale, I'm sellin' words"

Thirty racks, I'll put a sixteen on the scale