I want stacks on deck. Racks on racks when I cash those checks. Back of the class, never passed those tests. So I'm maxing the stash and I grab no less.
Put it in the causal van. But I'm riding in a red Ferrari with the manual trans. F1. Never test em', tell the feds I'm sorry. But I'm hardly a catchable man.
Foot to the gas. Flashing the rarest pair of Jordan's, now look at the pants.

Armani shirt, yea. Hard body work.
That's car, money, threads and I'm more than the man.
Compare what it's worth.

Jail isn't worse than a 9-5.
Both hail as a curse.
I'm tryna shine.

But I fell through the Hell in a purchase.
Now I lie dead in the dirt.


Chorus:

Yall gon learn something.

see, by the end of this.
either you gon hate me or understand the message.


Leaves in my lungs.
Breathe in the freedom releasing the demons that sleep on the tongue.
Dreaming of genies I seek to become and I'm leaving the species

speaking to none.
Popping bottles like I'm popping caps to attract the models I be hollerin' at.
Talking smack?

I keep a little in common for women and problems: that's an auto MAC.

I will ball & my swag on point like Chris Paul in a mad Rolls Royce.

I'm a pimp, dog.
With a limp.
And my passes, yall could never pick like you had no choice.


The ladies and gangs be hating me lately. Jaded- I'm faded.
amazing, I may be.

Laid in the grave and the thang is I'm 18. All that remains from all I was chasing.

Chorus:


Yall gon learn something.
see, by the end of this.

either you gon hate me or understand the message.

Want money & he threw them bands.

100 when he hit that gas.
Straight stuntin when he rock that gear.
Stay blunted & he had no fear.

Swag is all that mattered to him.
Bad women, he had to use them.
Mags in clips, they blasted through him.

And that's the path to casket, stupid.

Money Cars Clothes Drugs Swag Guns Hoes Yolo.


Chorus:


Yall gon learn something.
see, by the end of this.
either you gon hate me or understand the message.