Berner, G.T. and Tunde - New Era

I been I been overseas trappin'
Hope they sick while they pocket watch
I got 'em in town chillin'
Prayin' that the prices drop
We used to move decks, same price as the ends
When it landed in the H
Had them trucks rollin' in
Hidin' money in the candle
Tryin' anything to get it back
Buy another spot
Let my dirty money take a bath
Big Whale shit, if it's trash
I'ma take 'em back
On my last joint of Skittles, yeah
I'm tryna make it last
We ain't worried 'bout a cage 'cause
We blinded by the ice if I ever fall off
Then I'm back to takin' flights
Yeah, the color came out nice
But the smell's a little off
If you take a couple dollars off
Then I'll sell 'em all it's the big dogs
You can tell by the watches
And how we don't stress when we take losses
Yeah, from the Bay to the UK
Certified in the streets, yeah
All my dudes paid

RIP all the fallen soldiers
Free all the guys locked down
Shout out to the whole of the UK
Shout out to the whole of the States
You already know what time it is
Big Bay Area, stand up
You know I'ma get mine

It's the it's the new era mob
So these pussies can't fuck with us
Come through with four handles like
We're playin' double dutch
Slappin' off that old-school Jacka
Or that Woodie Wood
Locked in with Cookies and Runtz
Now I'm the pluggy-plug violate the team
That's white chalk like a blackboard
It cost dough to go to war
What you think I stack for?
No gloves on the come-up
Runnin' 'round with them cracked paws
No mask on the come-up
We was kickin' off them back doors
I was built for this game 'cause I
Got the brains and got the muscle
Born on August 15th like Fat
Tony and Nipsey Hussle
'Member walkin' 'round the streets
Lost and broke, kickin' rubble
Now I don't lift a finger if
It ain't a triple double i'm too humble
I wonder how they'd act in my position
RIP miggy Migz
I'm gonna carry on your mission
Stuck up in this concrete jungle where
You hear them snakes hissin'
Leave your food around your
People, next minute, the cake's missin'

Yeah, all my motherfuckin' dudes paid, man
Shit crazy, man, we come from nothin', man
Berner, what up? Tunde, what up?
It's GT, ayy

I wish I wish Mizz could hop up in
This Trackhawk and bang this shit with us
Came a long way, we ain't never give up
Wakin' up at 5 am, unloadin' the truck
Got this shit all off the strength
I ain't pay a buck
I ain't been to the hood in a minute
But I stay in touch
Still'll park the foreign on
The block, chill, smoke some Runtz
LB and Ray tapped me in
I been straight since
We only smoke the best, we could bet
This shit straight piff bangin' Jacka
I just made a hundred off of one trip
Walk around with all my ice on
Somethin' heavy on my hip
That's for back-up, I just racked up
Brand new prezi on my wrist
A hundred P's that's gon' get packed up
Look like I took a hundred trips

Written by:

Publisher:
Lyrics © INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY COLLECTIONS

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find