The year is 70 Im due at the fifth,
I done did my nine months now my life take a shift,
In the freeworld now, you better raised me good,
But instead I blaze in the crazy hood,
I was three when my pops took a long vacation,
Now Im solo facin the revlation,
Gotta bolo for a dope fiend to hit,
And I show no feeny if u want some shit,
Im high as the sky, fishin for fry,
Be a G till the D-A-Y I die, oh my,
Y would u ever test this mex in a Lex just banging
Outta Tex, you know Im gonna wreck this shit,
Along with any other bitch who disrespect my click,
Like a bit, I got the heart if a killa,
And them hoes come out like a three wheela,
Cuz I freaks my draulics, fuckin hoes in college,
Bitches swingin on my nuts its so stylish, Model it,
Hold my dick like a 64, peace to all my babys mamas,
But really though, Im a damn fool,
And Gs can vouch that, up in the ghetto puttin
Cheese on a mouse trap, and one day Im gonna rise,
And come up, till then Im dealin dope from sundown
To sunup.
Only Hillwood can deal with this
You best not test this mex in a Lex
As I crept through my hood it felt good,
All my homies have my back with a gat in Hillwood,
Hustlin is the hobby, brothers if you will,
And all of those hoes really love is only Hill,
Be real if your blood runs deep in the hood,
All the punished shoulda woulda put a bunk in da wood,
All stood, all good, keep they fucking bank if I take
What you got, but my glock I degrate,
You hate the way Gs comin up with a mic,
I write what u like, cuz its my mothafucking life,
I never shife not to type, indeed I am,
But if they tryin to take my ends,
I be damn bam bam to that man in the pen,
Older boys too young to get stung,
Come with the holy boys,
Hold the noise I show boys to precise to
Fend from the skunk my blunt,
To be nice shoot dice hit killa,
Straight the mothafuckin eightball,
Pour a little for the ones who took that great fall,
Cuz I keeps all my dead homies in my heart,
They got a head start, and still we never part.
I remember December of 88, blue boys hit the cut was
To late to break, Had to swallow three stones tossed
My Chrome in the bushes, seven dirty pigs jackin up
Three bushes, my homie got a case tryin to race the
Van, got scooped and fixin to face the man,
In the black gown with the wooden hammer,
Bamma, give my nigga seven in the slammer,
Damma, old mothafucka passin time,
All my frends gone guess Im last in line,
Betta find me a new way to hustle,
Six years in the game and I still feel the struggle,
Smuggle weed across the checkpoint,
Just another day on the job as I mob but the pigs oink,
Smoke a joint on the way to the valley,
Now Im comin back and they wanna search my Caddi,
Its a risk when you tryin to make that fast bank,
But them mutts cant smell past my gas tank,
So I catch 59 back to H-Town, arrive safely with my 38
Pounds, fresh from the border, may I take your order,
You just want them singled every five and a quarter.
(Straight up big baby)
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