On the block, listening to Buckshot in the trap
Twenty four hours a day
Focus your attention, not to mention the fact
Yeah, I’m high off the liquor plus a bench and a fat L
HIgh as hell, no YSL
Strictly LRG for the BD emcee
Let’s see who could follow me on the journey
I burn trees like third degrees, you heard of me
If not, this might be your last shot
Cause you’re falling off fast in hip-hop
Drip-drop in your money fountain
No more in front of your honey counting chill
My skills pay bills, why you don’t?
You cry, who gon’ cry for me? You won’t
Stop stressing, my impression
I’m never impressed by the rest, so stop guessing
What’s next on my agenda
Cause you might be gone til November
Chill, Sam
Everybody got they own Sam
Sam sells drugs by the fruit stand, ducking blue vans
Every day, he got at least two grand
I’m like, damn Sam, can I get a part of your plan?
He said no problo, no job, no stress
We can get it off consignment, yeah, I know Bless
Who’s Bless? He worked for your older brother
When he had that crack spot open to the public
So lovely, now you want a piece of the action
When these streets see you cracking and they wonder what happened
Asking, how can I be just like you?
When I get dressed, I’ll dress just like you
I said two things every hustle got a hassle
Watch the money on the lasso, it come with a string
Yo Sam, this is who I am
Hip-hop, you in the trap, we both the same, man
On the block
Listening to Buckshot in the trap
Twenty four hours a day
On the clock
Nah mean?