Word on the Street
To all my dealers in the ‘hood who carry stacks of cash
Keep moving your shit, safeguarding your stash
Trusting no bitches, taking no shorts
Beatin’ all your cases, bafflin’ the courts
Keep pumping that shit, you got a high demand
Addicts and dealers walking hand and hand
With pants off your ass, boxers on your waist
Makin’ those moves, stackin’ bread with haste
You run a tight crew, anarchy not tolerated
Popular in dark circles, your name often celebrated
Ruining lives, a nickel bag at a time
No regrets, no remorse. Let your fronts shine!
The night is yours, you’re its crowned prince
The corners belong to you. Your block has no defense
‘Cause you got that shit that makes them niggas itch
Make them scratch they necks, turn ‘em out like tricks
Make mommas sell diapers, take their welfare checks
Make ‘em spread their legs wide, make ‘em bob their necks
Keep ‘em on the streets sayin’ “Yeah, this that shit!”
While your paper stay long and your money stay thick
Fuck what they say, you gonna make out like the mob
This shits a bitch but somebody’s gotta do the job
With your Timbs laced up and your cap down tight
White tee, you’re complete. Bring on the night.
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