SouthWay

This shit off the top, man
(Hey, CR)
Like every other track, yeah (yeah)
Yeah (huh?)
Free my dawgs

Yeah, D-boy
We makin' money we comin' where you stay
My brodie just freed, back in the drug game
Make money, could catch us in your state
I'm a cold heart savage, yeah, nigga, I ain't havin' it
All on the block in the finest shit
Them youngins, they crazy, can't manage 'em (for real)
Don't start it if you cannot handle it (nah)
And we them youngins who make shootin' a habit
Yeah, SouthWay (grrt)
Wrap that boy up, we love gun play (we love gun play)
Posted, we posted by front gate
Hop out, seventeen straps on front page
Niggas they bitch call 9-11
One shot gon' send 'em to heaven (for real)
Stuck in my mind, wake up to kill
Was hungry, I needed a mill' (needed mills)

And you wasn't there this is real life (real life)
Can't trust nobody, told me a hunnid lies
We live on the Jane, my lil' brother can't think right
Dived in real deep I couldn't sit tight (couldn't sit)
He lucky he would've been died (would've been)
Off two Percs so I had frog eyes (had frog eyes)
He gon' get used to them news articles, ooh
Yeah, Southside
We ain't gon' sleep 'til the opps die ('til the opps die)
I seen a lotta pain in my dawg's eyes (in my dawg eyes)
We go through some pain but we alright (but we alright)
Yeah, this is the street life (street life)
Yeah, mama can't think right (mama can't think)
Whole lotta funerals not many graduations (for real)
Huh, you know where your bitch at (come find her)
My dumbass gon' shoot if you switch sides
Swear to God they give me bitch vibes
Nah, for real (yeah had to get it, had to get it)
Pots, dope, I'ma just cool in the kitchen (cool in the kitchen)
Fat-ass lil' ho, she be doin' the dishes

Yeah, D-boy
We makin' money we comin' where you stay
My brodie just freed, back in the drug game
Make money, could catch us in your state
I'm a cold heart savage, yeah, nigga, I ain't havin' it
All on the block in the finest shit
Them youngins, they crazy, can't manage 'em (for real)
Don't start it if you cannot handle it (nah)
And we them youngins who make shootin' a habit
Yeah, SouthWay
Wrap that boy up, we love gun play (we love gun play)
Posted, we posted by front gate
Hop out, seventeen straps on front page
Niggas they bitch call 9-11
One shot gon' send 'em to heaven (for real)
Stuck in my mind, wake up to kill
Was hungry, I needed a mill' (needed mills)