[Intro: Jim Jones & Kevin Gates]
You know we don’t get tired
This is fed life
Gates, you got me covered
I don’t get tired

[Chorus: Kevin Gates]
These situations get hectic I know
We goin' end up just fine
How the fuck does he grind
No time to waste
I can pray Allah
Seem like he mad at me
For something I ain’t play along
Just wanted clothes and food
When we ain’t have a car
Seem like you going nowhere fast
Since you got a job
Stomach hurting - n***as look like food
It make you wanna ride
If you ain’t strung out on the d
Then you gonna supply

[Verse 1: Kevin Gates]
Bad dope stopping up the pipe
Trying to shake it back on the spoon
Crunch time we on the gun line
Clutching the tool
I dealt with label
Or should I say the fakers
Walked out on a deal behind the fence
We going major - Troy Aikman
On long range precision
Tend to make you be good
Show a pussy the ropes
Difficult to make him be hood
Hit the streets as they considered us
The scum of the earth
Facial expression on a bum
I’m fin to bump when it hurt
[Verse 2: Jim Jones]
I done seen n***as get life
Take it on the chin
Seen four five shots
Make a n***a spin
Lord is like the streets
Trying to break a n***a in
Lost twenty-one filthy
At Vegas at the Winn
(West side)
I done sold crack and sold records (you know me)
I done hold gats got no records (pardon me)
Hotel rules - a bunch of hoes naked
Like eighty something carats
In my gold necklace

[Verse 3: Neek Bucks]
Feel like the block falling apart
I’m just out here
Trying to connect the dots
Fast life dude
Hope to give my n***a a second shot
And get to speak to him
Told n***as tell me to never stop
I’m on this Greyhound dirty
On my way to some extra knots
Riding in dirty hoopties
Dreams of riding Mercedes
Was off the beef with hammers
If n***as was trying to play me
Fifty grams of dope in my ass
Now moving shaky
Got the state troopers on us
These crackers will never take me
[Chorus: Kevin Gates]
These situations get hectic I know
We goin' end up just fine
How the fuck does he grind
No time to waste
I can pray Allah
Seem like he mad at me
For something I ain’t play along
Just wanted clothes and food
When we ain’t have a car
Seem like you going nowhere fast
Since you got a job
Stomach hurting - n***as look like food
It make you wanna ride
If you ain’t strung out on the d
Then you gonna supply