Back Sellin' Crack

[Verse 1: Vince Staples]

I done beat the brakes off niggas, shot the face off niggas

Pending case with the state, and I'm still out trippin'

All the feds take pictures, fuckin' up my image

Even mama bringin' drama, I don't trust no bitches

See these hoes be out here switchin' they side

When its time for the killin', I ride

Look right in my eyes, been ready to die

Risk felony time for threatenin' mine, who better than I? Nobody alive

Nobody live the life that I did, fightin' to live since I was kid

Playin' in the yard with a 30-06

House look like a gun range, room look like a gun store

Either y'all gon' know my name, or niggas dyin' young and poor

Either way, don't give a fuck, you gon' find me northbound

With the shit, I'm in the shit, you know I love them gun sounds

7's cry, MACs applaud, they takin' shots, I had to call

You'll catch 'em out the shotgun, that's Roddy White from fifty yards

No body shots, I'm hittin' jaws

Try to run, you Stephen Hawking

You see I mean this shit I'm talkin', you don't want no problem

[Chorus: Vince Staples]

Slave to the rhythm, shoot my master in his back (Back)

Two dope boys, in the Cadillac strapped (Strapped)

Wood grain dash, windshield stained glass (Windshield stained glass)

Beatin' down the ave, like we back sellin' crack

Killin' for the karma, but livin' for my mama

Trouble what the call us, and nothin' what they offer, off 'em

And they wonder why niggas get shot

And they wonder why niggas get shot

[Verse 2: Vince Staples]

Where you at? Where you from? 'Cause it's hot where I'm at

Any time of the day, you get robbed or get jumped

It’s a game that we play to get paid

For the wants and the needs of the young

Snakes slide through the grass

Blades slide in the back of the used and abused

Try to walk in my shoes, get tripped by my fuse, too short

Ask God, "What do you want?", he said, "I want your life"

Well, I ain't live mines right

But if I do the crime, then I do the time

I ain't scared of shit, I was born to die

Extended clip, big .45, been quick to trip

And been lost my mind, when I die, please don't let mama cry

'Cause she know, had to be him or I, and I got caught slippin'

Get a gun and go knock that nigga

Run up on him, no mask, no feelings, no room for that

They shoot at us, then we shootin' back

Burnin' shells 'til I burn in hell

And I'm cool with that, that Uzi packed

I done learned a lot in these nineteen years

Lotta homies ain't shed one tear

God decide when my curfew is

So 'til the day, I'ma do my shit

I proved my shit, they know my name, not proud of the outcome

Either have regrets or be out young, don't sleep

[Chorus: Vince Staples & ScHoolboy Q]

Slave to the rhythm, shoot my master in his back (Back)

Two dope boys, in the Cadillac strapped (Strapped)

Wood grain dash, windshield stained glass (Windshield stained glass)

Beatin' down the ave, like we back sellin' crack

Killin' for the karma, but livin' for my mama

Trouble what the call us, and nothin' what they offer, off 'em

And they wonder why niggas get shot (Uh, yeah)

And they wonder why niggas get shot (Uh, yo, Figg)

[Verse 3: ScHoolboy Q]

I took the blue pill and its evidence was shown

Homies from elementary, some them niggas gone

I got this cocaine, but my stove ain't turnin' on

I got that knock-knock (Ooh), yeah, you know

Ridin' in the whip, for sure, no L's in the whip, for sure

All the homies strapped, but it ain't for show

Tryna hit a lick, no envelope

Nigga, weed ain't the only thing get smoked

Cuz got ghost 'fore he even got ghost

Cuz got toast and he ain't old enough to drink

Shouldn't been singin', now his ass Murder Inc

Sunny LA, where we never need a mink

Sunny LA, where the youngins don't think

Sunny LA, where the Heat get sprayed

And every other word on the wall get K'ed

All the homies hangin' in your parkin' space

This my set, I ain't hearin' what ya say

Back then, had to be in by 10, but out by 12

Mom made it safe to work, I got the text on the cell

Back with the Locs all raisin' hell, found out the homie in a cell

I know he hated school, but it's better than jail

Gotta thank God I was saved by the bell

Tryna spit bars, I ain't tryin' to live behind 'em

So I keep my face here, right when I find them

Nigga, my rawness fuck through a condom

Ready when I'm rappin', no wonder why they signed him

Done with the house licks, so what ya still pinin'

Dead by the street lights, boy, you shinin', uh (Biatch)

[Outro: ScHoolboy Q]

Talk about you grindin'

Figg Side, yeah