And who the fuck gon' tell me somethin'? I don't work for nobody. Imagine me takin' the opinion of a workin' man. Motherfucker, please. The price goin' up, too. Goat throats, white bloat, I'm spritin'. Thirstin', purpin', like a viking. Quarterback, baby, come and make met. Now throw it back, baby, then you switch back. Shit, y'all fucked. Me, too. Give a giant in check, you know how much green I'm blue. Money ain't nothin', but it's side effect of hustle. The outbreaks in New York, everybody in trouble. It's Harry P, nigga, comin' straight outta Brooklyn. The P stand for powder, Turk, crack when I'm cookin'. Stow top stories with Sabrina again. Bring smoke rocks so you can rent a kitchen pateen. Shit, it's nothin' but a dime. I'm such a fuckin' slime. Had a baby on my girl, nothin' in another dime. On my UPS, shit, unprotected sex. A-double-D, dick, negative to the taxes. Close the code like the fiends by my grandma's house. I run right across the street and get them grams all out. Money in my pocket, money on my mind. Money is the motive, majority of my crimes. Dial it to the people, I'm a generous leader. But I don't give a fuck, and my niggas don't either. The big homie Glock said it cleansed the beat. If it ain't BSB, then it ain't for me. Powder. Yo, it flows like blow. Battles like teams. Thirstin', purpin', like a fight game. Quarterback, baby. Kill me, make mad. Now throw it back, baby. Dance, bitch, wack. Shit, y'all fuck. Me too. Give a chance. You know how much we know. Money ain't nothin' but a side track to hustle. Side track to hustle. The outbreaks of y'all. Yeah, you got to control. I don't want to do shit, but get money and fuck hoes. I said this shit again. I done said it before. Five ACP tucked in my waistline. Homie, I'm not the nigga that you want to be trying. Unless you want to be dying. And that's cool with me. It's your mama that'll be out collecting funeral fees. I'm chilling out in the sun, collecting beautiful breeze. Black mink at the pen. Wide view to degrees. Cold heart, cold world. I'm a cold motherfucker. Phone's hot, so I only talk in code by myself. But I'm eating. Need a nap. I'm leaving. Give a dab and hit the road to success. I don't need a fucking map. Bought a GPS. Good pound of sour. This relieves my stress. Feels good as a shower. Black soap wash from day off. Then I hit the hay off. Six hours later, get up and get the gay off. Yo, it flows like blow. Thirsting, perping like a viking. Call it back, baby. Call me Nick Nack. Now throw it back, baby. Gangsters back. Shit, y'all fuck. Me too. Give a giant conject. You know how much green I blew. Money ain't nothing but a side effect of hustle. The outbreak's New York, everybody in trouble. You know how much green I blew. The outbreak's New York, everybody in trouble.