[Intro: FMB DZ]
(Vonte on the Beat, n***a)
Huh, pst, huh

[Verse: FMB DZ]
Hell yeah, rap changed my life, I'm still hustlin'
Sometimes I feel like people love me more when I was strugglin'
I don't trust nobody, I feel like n***as want my spot
N***as want my shine, n***as want everything I got
Before I let a n***a get down on me, I'd rather rot
You know ain't no ho in my blood, I come from the rock
Ask about me on the Eastside too, I get n***as shot
Made them get a gun 'cause I had one, bitch, I'm pop or die
If you ever see me by myself, just know I got thе fire
Hit one of mines, I'ma hit yours, wе goin' opp for opp
I let MJ's get my coupe clean, you know that's my guy
N***a run up on me in this bitch, he must wanna fly
Hit the smoke shop and grab a box of Cubanos
Me and Skeetch flyin' in the 'Vette on Forgiatos
N***a talkin' all that fully talk like we ain't got the Os
I'll have brodie jump out with that A and do your block blow
I advise you ho n***as to watch what you say to me
I take everything personal, so don't play with me
Put a Nike tag on for a week and make a forty piece
Somebody else gon' take it, I might as well do it 'cause I know he sweet
Big Whoop, the biggest in America, yeah, you know it's me
Sometimes I had them days when I felt like I ain't where I'm 'posed to be
You think them n***as gangster, huh? Them n***as hoes to me
Pull up on your city by myself, bitch, I got 'bows for cheap
All I know is buy and sale, shout out to the clientele
Up early servin' everybody, meet me at John's Grill
Phone bangin', you know my door swingin'
Ain't shit to put you on the news, hope we both famous
And I see your bitch in my view, what you need, baby?
Hope you ain't tryna set the play, you'll bleed baby
They had bro locked for ten years, they need to free him
N***as actin' like they hittin' the road, but work at GM
Them n***as ain't even got more money than my BM
Made a hundred thousand, ran with Jerry-O, somebody call Tim
Notice all these n***as pushin' peace and I ain't mad at 'em
Catch one of these n***as in the streets and throw a jab at him
Or put some money on him, send a bag at him
Ain't no point in goin' to Kelly 'cause my rabs got him