Back End

Thirty thou' for a Jesus piece

I put that on your head

For the crew, it don't me no more

Them boys invite you in they bed

Talked to God before I eat

And ended off with a amen

I don't care how tight I get

I'ma till run on the bands

I'ma count all my banking

I'ma still do it for my fam

Just because I got a little money

That do not define the person I am

I don't give a fuck about what the critics say

I'm stacking up for no purpose

I clock in like I'm workin'

I ain't have to sell my soul it ain't worth it

Sold out, sold out

Now I'm mad

We done sold out

It's a hoe down, hoe down on them bands

We could roll about, once and for y'all, two in advance

Hotel, what that money do?

I'ma blow this shit like a fan

RIP to my **** shawty lo, I'm still walkin' 'round feelin' like the man

Commissary, going out on Sunday

Gotta make sure I still got a plan

Talk my girl on Monday on the phone with my hand in my pants

Walkin' round with my hand on it

I ain't hear a word they sayin'

**** talkin' 'bout what they gon' do

Rope of ash stood about that pavement

Overdue for some new music

Might as well put it out for my haters

**** talkin' hard, knowin' they can't stop me

I'm in that front yard, but don't try

I do whatever for my part, I hear the jury still with it

Thirty thou' for a Jesus piece

I put that on your head

For the crew, it don't me no more

Them boys invite you in they bed

Talked to God before I eat

And ended off with a amen

I don't care how tight I get

I'ma till run on the bands

I'ma count all my banking

I'ma still do it for my fam

Just because I got a little money

That do not define the person I am

I don't give a fuck about what the critics say

I'm stacking up for no purpose

I clock in like I'm workin'

I ain't have to sell my soul it ain't worth it

**** lurking

Telephone, no service

Ten on the card, not working

So I had to close them curtains

Pulled up in Sunday, never heard of

I ain't seen no caution tape, but the whole scene, I murder

Lying to me, I'm used to bitchin'

Watchin' out who I'm talkin' to 'cause a lot of **** they superstitious

Dirty pots 'cause I used the dishes

40 Glock, keep it in my britches

Fit the shot so don't bite bullets

That lil' **** might need stiches

That big body, high lean in it

Tha drop top sellin' fiends in it

And I ain't gotta wear a suit

Everyday to show a **** I mean business

But all that lean, I need a killing

A little boy goin' so hard

You tellin' on me, you the real twit

You layin' here like, so vibes

Thirty thou' for a Jesus piece

I put that on your head

For the crew, it don't me no more

Them boys invite you in they bed

Talked to God before I eat

And ended off with a amen

I don't care how tight I get

I'ma till run on the bands

I'ma count all my banking

I'ma still do it for my fam

Just because I got a little money

That do not define the person I am

I don't give a fuck about what the critics say

I'm stacking up for no purpose

I clock in like I'm workin'

I ain't have to sell my soul it ain't worth it