Roll the Swisher, get high, free the homies behind the wall
Free my niggas inside, all them niggas that died
Rest in peace to my niggas, I hope they live in the sky
Pour out some liquor, load your fifth up for your niggas and ride
For your niggas that got hit bad and didn't survive
Sometimes I feel like, I'm the realest nigga alive
Since we was kicking doors, four niggas divvying pie
They ain't believe me when I told niggas the city was mines
Now look at me though, Buffalo nigga
But did records with Kool G though, necklace is two kilos
Remember when the Feds gave fifteen to cousin Tito
Me and Pat was right there, he took it like a G though
That's a real nigga, that's a fact
When I came home from doing two, he gave me a half ounce and a rack
And said, "You don't owe me shit, just put the city on the map"
That was eleven years ago and now I'm doing just that
Ask my baby momma how much I cried when Machine Gun died
When I pulled up and seen that yellow tape outside
Had me ready to grab the stick and go apes outside
I never found out who did it, that shit ate my pride, I swear
Heh, but maybe that was a sign
Maybe God ain't want me killing them niggas and doing time
Maybe God wanted me here to kill 'em with the rhyme
Maybe that was part of his plan and part of the design
I don't know, I'm not religious, all I know is I'm viciously gifted
When I script and then it's strictly for my niggas (woo!)
I might shed a tear listening to this shit
Pop the Spade cork like, "Machine Gun, we did it"
Damn, who would've known my crew would've blown?
Every verse is verse of the year, shit is proven and shown
I needed West and Daringer, I couldn't do it alone
'Member that fuck nigga pulled up using his chrome
Hit the back of my head and neck, I should've died, nigga
I feel like my nigga Dunce kept me alive, nigga
Slapping my face like, "Bruh, open your eyes, nigga"
Shaking my head like, "Fuck that, you can't die, nigga"
Only real shit what I provide, nigga
I wrote this shit with the tears in my eyes, nigga
Now they gotta consider me top five, nigga
You hearing my shit, is you surprised, nigga?
You know what's funny, I wanted to quit
After I got shot in my head, I seen my face like, "I'm done with this shit" (It's over)
Trying to spit my verses and mumbling and shit
Face twisted up looking ugly and shit
That Bell's Palsy had me looking like I had a stroke
But every bar raw like a slab of coke
And them same niggas that laugh and joke
Is doing bad and broke, and everything I drop is classic, dope
This the realest shit in my pad I wrote
This the realest shit that I wrote
So-lo that I can see under the skirt of an ant
So-lo that I don't get high no more when I "Geronimo!" I just go hit
So-lo my cup is a rojo, my cholo, my friend
So-lo that I can admit
When I hear that another kid is shot by the popo it ain't an event
No more
So-lo that no more high horses, so hard to wear Polo
When I do I cut the pony off, now there's a hole that once was a logo
How fitting
So-lo that I can give a fuck about what is trending
Tryna cut down on my spending
Regardless of winning, instead of pretending
And bending over backwards
Over half of these hoes had work done
Sayin' they want something real from a man
Just saying it, we being real persons
I hate that it's like this, I feel for you Ann
I don't know what it's like with a skirt on
So pardon me if I am being insensitive but darling this only worsens
So-lo my halo, stay way low, it feels like it's bent
So-lo that when they throw pussy on pesos I pay no attention to it
So-lo that I am no rookie but feel like a kid
Lookin' at the other kids
With astonishment while I'm on punishment, watchin' the summer come close to an end
After 20 years in
I'm so naive I was under the impression that everyone wrote they own verses
It's comin' back different and yea that shit hurts me
I'm hummin' and whistlin' to those not deserving
I'm stumbled and lift every word, was I working just way too hard?
Man, lost my dog in staircase
Took the highest spot on the podium
Ghost niggas prolly smokin' to the thought of knowin' us
They lost a part of growin' up
Smartest, learned I had to keep a wedge to get out of the rough
Use the clips, ain't used to disrespect, 'cause we carried enough
I promise I buried the grudge, preparing and carrying grub
Larry Hoops, I was lost in the alley
In the air, but now I sunk
I spun to the loss of my grandmama, buried the dunk
Send 'bout a prayer a month, through the above
Niggas moody but they view at the funk
Ain't shit to do, they play with food, they rhyme and Rubik's for fun
But I do what I want (ayy)
And I rue what it was later, allude it as such
Confusedly up with paper, I'm shootin' ones with the judges
The same as my brother been with a muzzle, that's from the cradle
So we goin' to the grave with this shit
If we join the second line of ancestors
And hand us a drum, loaded, a second time
Somethin' scary 'bout airin' out the shit I compress
The fair game, the fair now, the causes
An arm, leg, an arm, leg, and a head
And all greater conquest that takes our partner to rest
My partner, my partner spawned with a nigga red
I'm all on they neck, 'till my car parks, pardon it, fresh
Smart with a few niggas, sparkin' that large percentages
Was all to the wind, the losses come as often as wins
And impossibly thick
Don't got a job, I only ball off pick-six
I ball with fresh niggas, Lowry had shit lit, it's Christmas
I only know six niggas been lyin', but we ain't gon' mention
Who in the stu' and started sweating', told 'em, "It's the kitchen"
You know the rules, and we know how to shoot the loopholes
Who go boop-a-loop, and my kid, though got the kid
And you gon' juug a boogaloo
I been spittin' to rhyme the answer, not definitive, I just cramped it
I was gifted with words, oh damn, I took my lumps, my bruises, moved
What the fuck are you to do?
Yo, when we was hooked in the hood, gettin' booked like literature
Kept us shook, like when the boogieman comin' to get ya
We was crooks, tryna cop more rides than Great Adventure
Any image we took, not a father was in the picture
There was times, not a bite nor swallow was in the kitchen
Real niggas made a industry out of they intuition
Facin' the darkest outcome, sprintin' to outrun the reaper
Trying not to be the food in the mouth of the beast
For whom the bell tolls
Crown kings in Adidas suits and shell toes
We had to throw a lot of body blows and elbows
Wishin' we could get from Snyder Ave to Melrose
Without the Dapper Dan bodybags and jail clothes
That warned niggas not to lollygag when Hell rose
We railroaded through the thicker things for gold chains and chicken change
No one throwin' flames, there's growin' pains when in the game
And the blow, ashes in the snow, it's no remains
Push the wheel as fast as it could go, we overcame the obstacles
But when you official, the block miss you
Even if the old crew choose not to rock with you
We was blue-black, stuck in the glue trap
I had to pull my own self up by the bootstrap
Where everybody play they own part like a tooth gap
And old heads teach the young hitters to shoot back
I been livin' proof that the pressure make precious stones
And real Clarence Avants remain lesser known
But anybody who question you, send a message to 'em
I see my seat at the table to be a blessed throne
Triumph and tragedy, his majesty muscle never atrophied
The devil is a casualty, sucker, you're never catchin' me
Even though you been after me, motherfucker
You gotta bring a army to harm me, I occupy the capacity up
Decapitator of a hater in this modern day
My dossier no less, dealer spray Courvoisier
I'm Jean-Paul Gaultier, Tom Ford, and Cartier
Self-made, I fly vintage from the sommelier
On reserve, flowin' from the blackest fountain
It's all love from public housin' to the Atlas Mountains
I've established the average to always bat a thousand
So after butcherin' this track, it's back to countin'
The money generated from me leavin' microphones broke
Probably almost on par with all of Escobar's coke
When I'm finished, I'ma keep a tennis shoe on y'all throat
Just in case you mention in a interview you want smoke, nigga
Two Fifteen
