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Every other city we go Every other ghetto No matter where I go I see the same foes Ayo, we can meet at Carbone, meet me at the Aria Hundred round Glock on me (Gangsta), look wrong, I'm poppin' you (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Three piece Salvatore, lookin' like the Mafia Wrist cost twenty bricks, neck like a hockey puck Hopped out the Maybach (Skrrt), then did a walk-up (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Every bad bitch in my city, I done fucked 'em (Ah) I'm the flyest you done ever seen, nigga, fuck you Body bag on top of body bag, nigga, Russia (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot) Hustler in my veins, learnеd the game from Uncle Bacon (Ah) Cеntral Park legend, cheffin' in Versace aprons (Whip) Rest in peace Dip, lil' bitch, I'm the shit (Ah) Rest in peace Munch, havin' gecko for lunch (Grr) Rest in peace Pete, park the Benz in the street (Skrrt) Rest in peace Boo, got shooters on the roof (Grr) Rest in peace Joe, richest nigga in the low (Ah) Bricks got hit, then stamped on it off the boat (Mmm) I heard them niggas tellin', my niggas present Hit his ass with a buckshot (Boom, boom, boom), that nigga yellin' Smilin' on my mugshot (Mmm), two-time felon Bullets went clean through (Boom, boom, boom), now we stretchin' Letras de cancionesOne thousand (One thousand) One thousand (One thousand) Thirty-six ounces, I turned up in public housing Thirty-six ounces, rich in public housing I might shoot the Rolls-Royce through your block (I might shoot the Rolls through your block) I might shoot the Maybach through your block (I might shoot the Maybach through your block, Gangsta) I might have young boy come— fuck it (Brrt, baow, baow) One thousand (Brrt, baow, baow, baow, baow, woo) Uh, one thousand (One thousand) Smilin' on the fed cameras (On the fed cameras) Rest in peace Will, we still smilin' at the fed cameras Thirty-six ounces (Woo) Had my mama calling my phone like (Woo) "This shit gotta stop one day" (Woo) If ain't no switch on it, that ain't gunplay (Brr, baow, baow, baow, baow) I might drop a hundred bricks on your block (A hundred) I might have a hundred shooters on your block You know me and my niggas really rich, do you not? One thousand (One thousand) One thousand Thirty-six ounces, I turned up in public housing (I turned it up) Thirty-six ounces, bricks in public housing (I turned it up) [Post-Chorus: Stove God Cooks] I might shoot the Rolls-Royce through your block (Keep goin') I might shoot the Maybach through your block (Real shit) I might have young boy come— fuck it (Brrt, baow, baow, baow) Say a prayer for me, Stove Gangsta Grizills "And Then You Pray For Me" Lord knows I need it Demons on my shoulders Demons in the streets Demons in my sheets None of y'all can stop godbody Trials and tribulations only make me stronger We built for this Nigga, we built it Been preaching to the streets forever Legendary From Letras Mania