Financial Freedom
Nigga, this is not a fictional tale
This shit real
We was sittin' in the Bookings? Charged
Direct sale
Third shootout… we was fightin’ for positions
Shell casings out my 9 flyin’
Through your mama kitchen
Paper we stack it, pistols we pack it
You fuck around
We’ll blow your heart out the
Back of your jacket
Bitch, get down or lay down
My work is at Chach' crib ‘Cause he got big
Now he lieutenant so he sit there and watch
I swear to God I think I had
The same vision that Cat had
Woke up sayin’ "we gon’ turn
Them corners to Baghdad"
Yeah, we was young, but we had guns
We started juxing niggas
All you hear is Boo-Boo fuckin’
With them Brooklyn niggas
I had supreme schemes, Corley Wall thoughts
Start shootin’
I bet I’ll clear off the ball court
I want it all, that’s just
How I fuckin’ feel, boy
Get in the way
You gon' take your trip to Gilmores
I’m dreamin’ of… my dream of freedom
Financial freedom
Consist of big bags of bread and some coke
Nigga you can get with the
Program, fam’ll get smoked, nigga
We was a school of sharks -
A bunch of young soldiers
Open your head when you’re half dead
– you see? I told you
On the island, got that burner
Got the flamethrower
A couple niggas got blown
I got my name known
Over the phones, soon as I’m home
The game’s sewn
I got connections – look, bitch
I’m connected
And I ain’t givin’ niggas no passes
So respect it
Or get dealt with, I’ll break you off proper
You ready to die, huh? Too much Big Poppa
Easy – nigga chill or get laid out
I’ll put a hole in you then
Find out what your gang ‘bout
I do my dirt, I’m hardly ever by my lonely
I got that tech with that
Cooling system on me you think you want it
You don't want it with me homie
We stackin’ paper ‘til we strong
Then we takin’ over grab a gat
Bring the crack back with baking soda
Bridge the gap, get slapped
Actin’ like you know us
North Pole, nah, Southside produce the colas
We’re the last of our litter
This is what they taught us
We’ve got to kill what we eat
That nigga came up on us
If you ain’t gamblin’, get the
Fuck out the spot, boy
Shoot an ace off your foot
That’s some shit you should get shot for
Fuck it, when I win I’m a
Winner – when I lose, i’m a winner
‘Cause to my niggas y’all niggas
Lookin’ like steak dinner
You screw your face the fuck up
You gon' do what?
The strap big enough in my truck
To chew your crew up
Nigga stand down or get manned down
Mack, two clips, 30 rounds plus 30 rounds
Flip it around
You gon’ fuck around and get jammed up
Blammed up hit your spine
A standup nigga can’t even stand up