Lyrics
The street soldier, the heat holder, the deep thinker
The trap spot all night, smoking and keep drinking
Black minks in the winter time, we’re crime bosses
Designed portraits, vivid thoughts of flying saucers
Wally moccasins smashing on gas pedals
New SK, I had to throw away my last metal
The godfather, the street author, the sleek walkers
No peace offerings, spark heat cause the streets talking
Sergeants, lieutenants, the hardest niggas in it
If I walked it, I lived it, If I talked it, I did it
Cooking raw in the kitchen, balling since pole position
Part of the boat was missing, I sell work holding the pistols
Coke from Siberia, Louis V interior
If you ain’t on, I ain’t hearing you
Look in the mirror, tell me what you see
Is it a real motherfucker as you looking at me
What you know about that life? (You ain’t bout it!), I live it (I live it!)
That shit (That shit!), I’m with it (I'm with it!)
That work (That work!), I flip it (I flip it!)
That money (That money!), I get it
What you know about this game, I’m in it (I'm in it!)
That hammer (That hammer!), I grip it (I grip it!)
That Swisher (That Swisher!), I split it (I split it!)
A fuck (A fuck!), I don’t give it
The marksman, the target, the grand design
The struggle, the hustle, the process, the demand to shine
The hunger to be in front, the patience to stand in line
The vision of listening in hopes it will advance my grind
The movement, the blueprint, the street science
The weak dying, we keep iron, the street giants
The focus, the understanding
The greed, the need to supply what they’re demanding
The harsh realities of life
The thought of reincarnation, I seen it all twice
On my third time around, touching down where them killers be
Display a couple of bananas, make sure the opposition see
I’m magnificent, I’m magnifi-cents
Niggas hollering, I won’t even acknowledge it
Basking in the finer shit, you know, that designer shit
No stranger to hard work, I’m up early when it’s time to grip