Emmitte Prince - Co-Pilot

Riding passenger I'm coming pilot Pistol tucked in my coat pocket
A lil nigga with no remorse
I'll shoot a nigga with no problem I'm making cash
And they mad about it
Now they wanna talk bad about me You pussy niggas can kiss my ass
Then kicked rocks
And be glad without me
I lost it all now I'm back to ballin
That's what I call a comeback
If a nigga try to touch my paper I'mma pin him up like a thumb tack
Money over these dumb rats
All they do is just crumb snatch
These hoes ain't loyal
So, most niggas can't trust that
Came from the swamp
Like a musk rat
Not a boss but I delegate
Traumatized by that fake shit
And all the lies that you fabricate
Please don't lie to kick it
On my grind trying to get it
But all these bitches on my line
Like I'm fishing
Now see I stayed true the to G-Code
Now a nigga on beast mode
That red flame from my gunfire
Might give a nigga a heat stroke
Progress is a Process
I won't regress or demote
So, I keep that tool on deck
Like home Depot three eighty cobra
Inside this Michael Kors pea coat
A hundred
For them Jordan Craig jeans
That's a G-Note
Get it how I live
But never was the type to free load
Cause I'll go back to selling pounds
Before I ever be broke
That's my word homie
Word to mother
Motherfuck the "milk and honey"
I just want the "bread and butter"
Selling "onions" no "dehy"
Need a parachute cause I be fly
In Coogi Prada and Levi's
On that "Paper Trail" like "T.i"
"The Alphabets" can't even "C I"
So, get the fuck out my face nigga
Talk shit I reply I don't fuck around
With you fake niggas
Plus I got this peacemaker
Somebody tell em don't play with em
And damn right I'm talking numbers
When say that eight nigga
Yeah I ate twice like a crap game
All this money just lap change
My business partner is Mary J
She kept me out of that trap game
Living life in the fast lane
Fuck my chick
And give her back pain
Dicked her down so good
She hollered my government
And rap name
I'm just as fly as an Aircraft
Lean purple like Soul Plane
Young nigga trying to get ahead
You can bet I'm ballin like Rogaine
I tell you dawg it's a cold game
Cause most of all these hoes change
And niggas acting like bitches do
And that's not dope that's procaine
In Edgemont at Kam Wah
Eating fried chicken and lomein
Always been a lil greedy nigga
You damn right
I want the whole thang
Hell yeah I'mma Big Dawg
And I got this shit in a choke chain get hit with that Rondo
And be John Doe No Name
Hit em up with that Nina
On that silent night when I creep up Closed Mouth Don't Get Fed
So, I Advise You Niggas to Speak Up "Hood Credit" no "Visa"
Weed loud as my Speakers
Call the Plug Re-Up
Married to the Game
With no Pre-Nup
No I don't know what to call it
But, know I'mma call it something
Money comes money goes
Who gives a fuck about a budget
You stand for nothing
Then you'll fall for anything
Don't call it bluffing
Everythang is on the table
It's all or nothing
Siran wrap vaseline
Pyrex pots balance beams
Sandwich bags Arm and Hammer
With a Digitz Scale on a magazine Legitimize your hustle nigga
And make sure
That your Cash is Clean
See I Grab the Loud Pass the Lean
And I GENOCiDE
Cause that's the Team
Siran wrap vaseline
Pyrex pots balance beams
Sandwich bags Arm and Hammer
With a Digitz Scale on a magazine Legitimize your hustle nigga
And make sure
That your Cash is Clean
See I Grab the Loud Pass the Lean
And I GENOCiDE
Cause that's the Team

Written by:
Emmitte Prince

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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