[Intro: Young Chris]
'fficial lord n***a till he
'fficial lord n***a till he
'fficial lord n***a till he
Went to the district dropped two nickels on a n***a
Then went back in the streets, n***a played the heater
Got a high class freak, A-1 if I need her
'fficial lord n***a till he
'fficial lord n***a till he
'fficial lord n***a till he
Went to the district dropped two nickels on a n***a
Then went back in the streets, n***a played the heater
Got a high class freak, A-1 if I need her

[Verse 1: Young Chris]
Show her how to shoot the medal when she moving through the ghetto
Undertaker with the shovel, leave em under with the devil
I'm a north Philly rebel, no a hustler, never settle
Hitting every target, keep riding, n***a pedal
Hit em rock, hear them slump, them chumps ain't on my level
Duffel bag to the jeweler, spend a lump sum on my bezel
Show em how a n***a moving if a n***a get to shooting
I put this on Larry, motherfucker we ain't loosing
Semiautomatic clack, hit em high, hit em low
Show them how this shit it go, n***as tryna get the dough
I'm a product of the street, with the riders with the heat
Lay back, smoke my weed, and just ride up on the beat
Motherfuckers!
[Chorus]
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie

[Verse 2]
Good shots in the morning, I wake up to the sound
I quickly grab my hammer, bitch tell me calm down
If they talking beef I quickly serve em like a butler
I'm riding through the city like I own this motherfucker
They hate the way I roll but these n***as can't stop it
Stash cracked open, got this hammer I'll pop it
Son asked me "daddy why you riding with that gun?"
I'm like "These n***as hating, tryna kill a n***a, son"
But you protected, harm you, watch me kill em in a second
Homie turned snitch so I guess it was a lesson
A cold blood line I guess this rich shit is ending
He turn 14 I bet my son gon get his Bentley
My daughter get the Ashton, bitch get the Rolls
The homies Panameras and my mama get the Glow
The Rolex full of ice so I guess time froze
At the dinner [?] so no feelings ain't exposed
On the dead homies
[Chorus]
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie

[Verse 3]
Pull up to the set boy, and I'm finally clean
Ignited on the scene, like a batch of methala
A hot blur on me, and some cold lean
Shoot it out in slow motion with the police
Getting money lately, know that they don't like it
Running up a check, bitch don't fight it
I do it for my n***as went and got indicted
Talking bout that money, no one driving

[Chorus]
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie
Man I put that on my dead homies
All I know is get that bread homie
Got a pocket full of dead homies
And Imma get em till I'm dead homie