(Pipe that shit up, TnT)
(Ayy, JB)
Look, look
Fell in love with my cup, it’s just me and my drank
So much pain in my heart got me numb to the brain
And the crackers on our bumpers, shit ain’t sweet as you think
Loyalty for royalty, I did it all for the gang
Now here’s a message for the youth, it ain’t worth
Niggas police, it ain’t worth it
Yeah, we stand on that business, fuck around, tie up a witness
My past ain’t perfect, the judge handing out jersey numbers
Mistakes is nothing, you live and you learn
I was tryna get some sleep, so I been sipping that syrup
Preaching to my young niggas to lay off the pills
My baby mama text my phone like, “You got some nerve”
Know I come up out that bottom, I came straight from the curb
Youngin asking me advice to get his paper mature
My mouth told him chase his dream, but the younger child in me screamed
“Tell your big homie to front you half a bird”
You scared, then go to church, if you scared, them crackers’ll give you life, you life
Okay, my brother back in jail, my songs leaking out, I am not alright
In 2018, my partner was eighteen, they gave him twenty years, twenty years
If you eighteen with twenty, that mean he got more time than he fucking lived
Preaching to Lil Keed, I told him try to make it to the league, get a jersey number
It ain’t nothing in these streets, graveyards and jersey numbers, jersey numbers
It ain’t nothing in these streets, but graveyards and jersey numbers, jersey numbers
Bro calling from the jail, he say his lawyer swapped him out
I was hollering at lil’ Yayo, they gave him a dub and he did five
Still shot him with his slides on, bro institutionalized
[?] I’m just happy that he survived
For anything to get you free, you I’m picking sides
Know a couple people who beat the cheese, will you still be the guys
[?] clean your laundry, laundry
Shoot the way [?] get a lunch tray, lunch tray
They’ll give you a judge and I’ma judge won’t put you in the gang
They be treating us like a jeweler, can’t wait to put us in some chains
On facetime with lil’ TJ, say his mama was acting strange
Said his brother turned his back since he been in, I felt his pain
Seen a gangster go to jail and fuck a sissy
He wouldn’t control himself, the first day out I was back to sipping
Niggas tell me don’t get high, I should try and make a living
But I tell ’em I’m a hustler, and I’d rather make a killing
Preaching to Lil Keed, I told him try to make it to the league, get a jersey number (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
It ain’t nothing in these streets, graveyards and jersey numbers, jersey numbers (Yeah)
It ain’t nothing in these streets, but graveyards and jersey numbers, jersey numbers
Uh