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[Verse 1: will.i.am]
Street livin’, caught in a trap
Guns or books, sell crack or rap
Be like kings or be like pawns
They called us coons, now they call us cons
Street niggas be packing pistols
Terrorists be blasting missles
Crips and bloods and retail thugs
CIA planes bring Columbian drugs
Don’t push me cause I’m close to hell
And compare to them, prison guards get payed well
Ten years no bail is 4 years at Yale
So, forget about the statue of General Lee
Because the status of blacks are generally
Are gonna end up in some penitentiary
Systematically, that’s how they made it to be
Listen, they derailed the soul train
And put a nightmare into every Martin Luther King
And private complexes are owned by the same
Slave masters that owned the slave trade game
And racists no longer have to be racist
Cause niggas kill more niggas than the KKK did
Now, every time I hear a new def jam
Niggas killing niggas like they Ku Klux Klan
I understand what’s a nigga to choose?
Be the killer or be the dead dude in the news
I get it, what’s a nigga to do?
No education in the hood, got a nigga confused

[Verse 2: Taboo]
Street livin’, tough conditions
Brainwashed by the television
We lost in the war we live in
Double cross love lost no religion
Street livin’, oh my gosh
Another brother got shot by the searg’
Another cop got off with no charge
If you black in the hood, you at large
You’re guilty until we prove you’re innocent
If you’re ivory, they treat you different
If you’re ebony, they assume you’re temperament
Well, be vigilant, and they call you militant
You’ll get shot, and they’ll say the incident
Is because you’re beligerent
What a coincidence?
If you ain’t dead, you can see imprisonment

[Verse 3: apl.de.ap]
It’s more niggas in the prisons than there ever slaves cotton picking
There’s more niggas that’s rotting in the prisons than there ever slaves cotton picking
So, how we gon’ get out the trap?
Guns or books, sell crack or rap
Street livin’, hustle or hoops
Guns or books, get shot or shoot
Street livin’, ain’t no rules
Break the law, make or break the news
The life you choose could be the life you lose
Niggas getting stuck for the Nike shoes
Street livin’, ain’t no joke
It’s a cold world, better bring your coat
Revoke cause the streets are broke
Now, they wanna take away our dreams and hopes
Street livin’, no economics
No way out of the Reaganomics
Infected by the black plague, new bubonic
No comprende, we speak ebonics
Street livin’, what’s your position?
You can take action or take a dick
Listen, you can get fucked by the system
Or you can say fuck the system

[Chorus: YFN Lucci & Offset]
Uh, young fly nigga I kick big shit, yeah
Plus my wrist lit, hey
Plus my bitch rich, yeah
I’m a big pimp, yeah
I talk big shit, yeah
We got sticks bitch, yeah
We don’t miss shit, yeah uh
Yeah, wrist on frostbite, wedding bands look like headlights
This the boss life, yeah
My bitch exclusive and she boujee, yeah
Real life no movie, whole lotta groupies, yeah

[Verse 1: YFN Lucci]
I gotta move a clip, in this lil’ uzi yeah
They like to talk a lot yeah, but we like to mute shit, yeah
Pull up and shoot shit yeah, all on the roof and shit, yeah
Trap out the Ruth’s Chris yeah, bust down your cuban, yeah
Montana, some like Tony Montana
Whole lot of drums and bananas
I don’t fuck with no rappers
I got love for my trappers, yeah
Reachin’ for my chains see I know blood they gon’ wack ’em yeah
New spot like the Falcons
New drop this the fast one
Get some top in the Aston
1.5 in cash, bruh
Young fly nigga, they like, "He so handsome"
I might slide through in that Rolls Royce Phantom

[Chorus: YFN Lucci & Offset]
Uh, young fly nigga I kick big shit, yeah
Plus my wrist lit, hey
Plus my bitch rich, yeah
I’m a big pimp, yeah
I talk big shit, yeah
We got sticks bitch, yeah
We don’t miss shit, yeah uh
Yeah, wrist on frostbite, wedding bands look like headlights
This the boss life, yeah (offset)
My bitch exclusive and she boujee, yeah
Real life no movie, whole lot of groupies, yeah

[Verse 2: Offset]
(Offset)
My whole cup polluted (drank)
Get in that pint and how you can (hun)
We take the phone from the groupies (woo)
I’m drippin’, baby, excuse me (drip)
Whole lot of gang in here (gang)
Northside niggas, no names in here (Nawf)
Pinky ring crystal clear, 40k spent on a private Lear (fyuu)
60k solitaire (60 ball)
I cannot vibe with queers (hun hun)
I got the heart of a bear (huh)
Bustin’ them down by the pair ( bust down)
Patek Philipe, it’s rare (hey)
I’m smashin’, pullin’ her hair (smash)
Trap fashion, look what I wear (trap fashion)
It’s a ghost but do not be scared (hun hun)
It’s a Wraith with stars in the ceiling, yeah (stars)
They go ape on them bars catch a body, yeah
Let my dick fill in her mouth like it’s a cavity, yeah
Sippin’ on codeine, floatin’ with no gravity yeah

[Chorus: YFN Lucci & Offset]
Uh, young fly nigga I kick big shit, yeah
Plus my wrist lit, hey
Plus my bitch rich, yeah
I’m a big pimp, yeah
I talk big shit, yeah
We got sticks bitch, yeah
We don’t miss shit, yeah uh
Yeah, wrist on frostbite, wedding bands look like headlights
This the boss life, yeah
My bitch exclusive and she boujee, yeah
Real life no movie, whole lot of groupies, yeah

We gotta get it
They hated Esco
They hated Escobar
I’m still here
Dave East talk that talk
Streets need that
NYC, L.A., Chicago, Detroit, the whole world
Lets get it
I had a basic plan, get out the projects and never look back
Could still smell the aroma from when my uncle would cook crack
One conversation between homies, better yet brothers
That used to spend the night with each other
They moms was best friends
One name was Anthony, the hood called ’em Ant Live
Kept his pistol on ’em, so he bought a bigger pant size
He got a little colder the moment he watched his man die
That was ten years ago
Baby-face, wishing that his beard would grow
Now he throw a set up anywhere he go
He just a product of his environment
Told me he’d rather die than ever go to Rikers again
Did a bid, his celly was blood, he studied five percent
Came home, like let niggas see me, I’ll never ride with tint
Cory was his right-hand man, his mother up North
She was busting checks with the wrong nigga
He popped Xannys and he just want him some strong liquor
Lose the attitude, he miserable
For years he tried to get a lick or two
Moms begging he finish school, but non-sense he get into
Ant’ met Cory when they was kids with innocence
Ant’ hated his dad around ’cause that nigga was militant
Cory found a hoe to pass, some cash, they could triple it
Double it, stack it up, Cory ain’t never want to spend
Ant’ was blowing money fast, big Meeching when he shopped
Flashy nigga, body wrapped in diamonds, necklace, and the watch
They hated Jesus, hated Malcolm, hated Martin
(They gon’ hate) Eight niggas living in a two-bedroom apartment
No lights up in the crib, I guess I came up out the darkness
Mood change when I spark it, new Range, now I park it
They hated Jesus, hated Malcolm, hated Martin
(They gon’ hate) Eight niggas living in a two-bedroom apartment
No lights up in the crib, I guess I came up out the darkness
Mood change when I spark it, new Range, now I park it
Ant’ and Cory set up a trap, fiends in and out of that
No mask, stocking cap, they robbed him, but he got it back
Six in the morning with baggies on him was a way of life
Streets will teach you quick, ain’t nothing free, pay the price
Eviction notice in the kitchen, your bitch will stay the night
Cory had the sour with him, Ant’ fuck with ‘yola
Got kicked out his moms crib, she found a couple boulders
Locked up with killers up North, he rubbed a couple shoulders
Cory told Ant’ on the V I the block was changing
Ant’ told Cory be grateful, freedoms’ amazing
Three and half light bid, Ant’ stayed in drama
He was light skinned, outside before you niggas was typing
No MySpace
Cory and Ant’ had butter rockin’
The other younger niggas from the block, just loved to watch him
Couple haters, but nothing major, they knew the streets
Niggas caught Cory, made him take off that new Philippe
Cory took it on the chin, he wasn’t new to beef
Killers kill you for talking, all you gotta do is speak
Thats a man down, Ant’ told Cory have the fam ’round
And keep on shitting on niggas until your pants brown
They hustle low, so much evidence that can’t found
Cory got nervous whenever they spun that Van ’round
They snatched him and he talked about the way he got it
Broke the code, that was snitchin’, it ain’t no way around it
They hated Jesus, hated Malcolm, hated Martin
(They gon’ hate) Eight niggas living in a two-bedroom apartment
No lights up in the crib, I guess I came up out the darkness
Mood change when I spark it, new Range, now I park it
They hated Jesus, hated Malcolm, hated Martin
(They gon’ hate) Eight niggas living in a two-bedroom apartment
No lights up in the crib, I guess I came up out the darkness
Mood change when I spark it, new Range, now I park it
Ayo’ East
It’s your man, Nas Esco’
Keep doin’ what you do
Peace be on to you my young brother
Young king

[Intro]
It’s the weekend. So man, fuck your problems, man, I don’t give a fuck about your motherfuckin’ problems, brah. You know what I’m sayin’? You need to stop chasin’ these hoes, my nigga. You know what I’m sayin’? Bitch is takin’ all your motherfuckin’ check, nigga, you know what I’m sayin’? Like nigga you broke than a motherfucka ‘cause you spend it all on these dirty ass hoes. Find you a real woman, my nigga. Yeah

[Chorus]
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’ (nooo)
I can’t fall in love with these hoes (nooo)
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’
Smoke a blunt, bust a nut then its back to the dough
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’ (nooo)
I can’t fall in love with these hoes (nooo)
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’ (nooo)
She gon’ bust it open, I’ma throw this cake on the floor

[Verse 1]
Mister Officer, Mister Officer
Please take the hand cuffs off of her
Why you stalkin’ her? Why you stalkin’ her?
Hackin’ phones tryin’ to find out who she talkin’ to
You was callin’ her, you was callin’ her
Last night she ain’t answer, I was all in her all in her
We was all in her, we was all in her
Made her bust that pussy careful, all my dawgs in here
It was me, Juicy J, and all my wolves from ‘round the way
I spend 20, I spend 30, I blow 50 in a day
That ain’t nothin’ to a boss, I spend 300 on a Wraith
I can’t save no mo’ hoes, ain’t no room in my safe (nooo)

[Chorus]
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’ (nooo)
I can’t fall in love with these hoes (nooo)
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’
Smoke a blunt, bust a nut then its back to the dough
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’ (nooo)
I can’t fall in love with these hoes (nooo)
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’ (nooo)
She gon’ bust it open, I’ma throw this cake on the floor

[Verse 2]
All these niggas cuffin’ and these bitch really nothin’
I can’t fall in love, hey bitch, that shit ain’t up for discussion
Treat you like a freak because I know your ass be bussin’
He toss a couple dollars, you gonna let that nigga touch it
You used to niggas trickin’ but tonight we fuckin’
I can’t take you home to momma, I can’t take you out in public
I don’ spent so much on you I gotta put you in my budget
Shake that ass, make that money, who am I to judge it?
These hoes belong to everybody, everybody
Kill that bitch, that’s a dead body, dead body
These hoes, they be backstage, sellin’ pussy
These hoes be on Backpage, sellin’ pussy

[Chorus]
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’ (nooo)
I can’t fall in love with these hoes (nooo)
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’
Smoke a blunt, bust a nut then its back to the dough
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’ (nooo)
I can’t fall in love with these hoes (nooo)
Ain’t nobody cuffin’ no mo’ (nooo)
She gon’ bust it open, I’ma throw this cake on the floor
Hey

[Intro]
Woop, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ooh, ooh, ooh
You can’t tell me shit, I got designer on me (brr)
Ooh, Big Head on the beat (ayy, ayy)
Trapper of the century

[Chorus]
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist (brr)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got designer on my drip (what?)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got designer on my drip (ayy)
Designer on my drip, designer on my drip (what?)
Designer on my drip (what?), designer on my drip (what?)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist (oh)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist (ayy)
Designer on my drip, designer on my drip
Designer on my drip (what?), designer on my drip (what?)
Designer on my drip (what?), designer on my drip (what?)
Designer on my drip (what?), designer on my drip (what?)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist (ooh)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got designer on my drip (ayy)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist (yuh)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got designer on my drip (ayy)

[Verse]
Designer on my drip, fuck a nigga bitch (bitch)
Fuckin’ in that VIP (what?), eighty on my wrist
Pull up to the trap, [?] for a brick
Pull up on a groupie and I had to hit a lick
You can’t tell me shit because I’m flexin’ in Giuseppe
You can’t tell me shit because I’m flexin’ in the Bentley
You can’t tell me shit because I’m the trapper of the century (ooh)
You can’t tell me shit because I’m countin’ up the fetty

[Chorus]
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist (brr)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got designer on my drip (what?)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got designer on my drip (ayy)
Designer on my drip, designer on my drip (what?)
Designer on my drip (what?), designer on my drip (what?)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist (oh)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist (ayy)
Designer on my drip, designer on my drip
Designer on my drip (what?), designer on my drip (what?)
Designer on my drip (what?), designer on my drip (what?)
Designer on my drip (what?), designer on my drip (what?)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist (ooh)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got designer on my drip (ayy)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got a hunnid on my wrist (yuh)
You can’t tell me shit, I’ve got designer on my drip (what?)

[Outro]
Ayy, ayy, ayy
You can’t tell me shit, bitch
Designer on my drip
You can’t tell me shit
Ayy, ayy, ayy