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Hey, put a towel underneath the door Open the windows up Oh man Don't you call the cops, I'm smokin' on that killa I'm so super lit I can't even fight the feelin' Told my kids that daddy must go get the millions Pull up with the top, I left without the ceiling I'm on to bag play I'm in a great space Ain't with the fake love, I won't even handshake The real niggas fuck with me, I'm talkin' the long way I jump on the beat hungry, I make it a entree I am not fighting the feeling I gotta be one of the realest Really though, one of the illest Mentally fully committed Ain't no sauce for the free Ain't no land of the free Ain't no hand-out, let me find out, nothing's here for the cheap I'mma rise to occasion, every time we arrange it I'm alive, nigga, get in line, still ahead of time with the cadance No flaws, no flagging Murder scene, new caskets Letras de cancionesBoy, it's feeling like the first time Frank Lucas hit with Blue Magic God Oh shit, I think that's them people at the door [Zeek?] I think we done packed too much gelato in the (?) fool Yeah, fuck it Don't you call the cops, I'm smokin' on that killa I'm so super lit I can't even fight the feelin' Told my kids that daddy must go get the millions Pull up with the top, I left without the ceiling I'm on to bag play (yeah, yeah) I'm in a great space (yeah, yeah) Ain't with the fake love (no way) I won't even handshake (no way) The real niggas fuck with me, I'm talkin' the long way I jump on the beat hungry, I make it a entree (did that) Ready or not, fuck if you ready or not Niggas be talking a lot Claimin' they hot "Fuck is you talkin' about?" Niggas they wanna be 'Pac You could get shot like him You know the flow on a old diaper Ain't no containin' a (?) Cannot compare to a Leonitas Phone jumpin' off-hook I'm in my robe when I cook I'm centerfoldin' my looks I'm tired on schoolin' you rooks Turned the 'telly to the trap Different season on the raps Smokin loud, trying to hold it down Fuck it, neighbors hatin' on the low Any city, I'mma pull up in it, make a fuckin' movie at the show Made a killin' at the door I've been living on the road Fans feed my soul Keep on feedin' 'em tho I heard a knock at that door Don't you call the cops, I'm smokin' on that killa I'm so super lit I can't even fight the feelin' Told my kids that daddy must go get the millions Pull up with the top, I left without the ceiling I'm on to bag play (yeah, yeah) I'm in a great space (yeah, yeah) Ain't with the fake love, I won't even handshake (oh no) The real niggas fuck with me, I'm talkin' the long way I jump on the beat hungry, I make it my entree (did that) From Letras Mania