| I wanna know where the fuck are my down ass underground killas |
| Straight cap peelas |
| Walkin' the earth, been mean since birth |
| Takin' every damn thing in sight that’s worth |
| Somebody stabbin' you in the back, for a pebble of crack |
| Eastside, bitches like that |
| Sometimes I feel that I can’t eat, can’t sleep |
| Put me in a hole baby, 6 feet deep |
| Better yet, just leave me alone |
| I’ve survived this long with a microphone |
| Roamin' the streets, mean muggin' police |
| Left hand on my nuts right grippin' a piece |
| So now I feel that I owe it to y’all |
| You’re the reason that I’m here instead of dead and gone |
| And don’t think that I’m here to stress you out |
| I just wanna let you know what I’m about |
| Tomahawks, shotguns, axes, chains |
| These are all the thangs that a G brangs |
| To your party, birthday, wedding, funeral |
| Streets is crucial, competition zero |
| Face facts, do the math |
| You can try to relax but this killa ain’t like that |
| Wait a minute, let me tell the truth |
| I’m relaxed like a motherfucka, tomahawking a fool |
| Walk away just keeping my cool |
| Like I’m sneaking in line at a big venue |
| No traits, no motive, nobody, no clue |
| Yo Blaze, am I right? (WOOP WOOP!) |
| That’s what the fuck I’ve been tryin' to say |
| Me and my whole damn family actin' murderous ways |
| That’s why we only gather once a year |
| Because the world really can’t afford to disappear |
| So now we all break bread, never misled |
| And the drama that I bring you will never forget |
| And the ones that’s down no matter where you’re at |
| I’m just here to let you know that I got your back |
| Tomahawks, shotguns, axes, chains |
| These are all the thangs that a G brangs |
| To your party, birthday, wedding, funeral |
| Streets is crucial, competition zero |
| I’m hard as the come, homie don’t be slippin' actin' dumb |
| Shove the pistol in your mouth, slightly quicker than some |
| The streets are talkin' I be listenin', hearin' |
| Reppin' for my thugs who got nothin' to be fearin' |
| Ask me if I ever been jacked, I’ve been screwed and taxed |
| And waxed, some suckas with two little stripes to attack |
| Mothafuckas ain’t shit, I’m a soulja |
| Drag bodies into coffins, by they bitch ass shouldas |
| Middle name Murder, Colton Grundy the rest |
| You see me packin' a gun in the vest |
| Now do your best to stay alive, I ain’t never gonna die |
| Eternal like the galaxy, who wanna try me? |
| I tell you one more time for all the foes of mine |
| Ain’t no way, ain’t anybody gonna stop my shine |
| Do the drive-bys bitch smackin' hoes and robberys |
| I do it for the streets and the money so respect me |
| Tomahawks, shotguns, axes, chains |
| These are all the thangs that a G brangs |
| To your party, birthday, wedding, funeral |
| Streets is crucial, competition zero |