Spider Webbing Windshields

I've been stuck in this street shit ever since a juvenile delinquent

Never turned down no fades, bent the truth, or filed a grievance

Outside chasin' a hundred, servin' junkies quite frequent

For this money, cash, hoes, and these chunky ice trinkets

Purple stain in my cup, under the light look kinda pinkish

Never spoke on that one shit, I know the— (Shh) gon' try to link it

Got that (Pfft) in my bomber, still middle finger to your honor

Double caught a two-ninety, met her off Jefferson and Conner

Cleared the whole tab, movin' heavyweight, I'm talkin' no flab

They throw jabs but still ain't had a clue since the old fab

Whole task know me by that alias my mother gave me

Knowin' I'm that one pullin' the strings on all the muppet babies

Biggest Creature, **** think they me but I'm the trendiest

We put shit to sleep, when it come to the reaper, I'm the slimmest

Placin' thousand-dollar bets, this shit not just for the image

Pavé in a flower set just to compliment the tennis bracelet

My jewels clankin', spot hot, seven hundred degrees

Pieces blew, watch playin' peekaboo under my sleeve

Them frames winkin', bitches talkin' got my name ringin'

Blow like a slinky, got my pinky and my chain blingin'

Pockets full of mixed bills, Pyrex full of fishscale

Ten thousand on your head, I'll show you why they call it Hitsville

No friendly neighborhood shit but it's blue tips in the tin mill

My youngin Peter Parker, shit, he spider-webbin' windshields

Unless you on some '96 Nastradamus shit, then nah

We ain't tryna hear that knowledge that you tryna kick

Spig with the tinted front window and the private fence

Kept my hand soapy but I still rule with an iron fist

Strig got a input, the extendo full of hollow tips

Kept a can opener for **** who be gossipin'

Snake-ass **** know we loafin' like some moccasins

Playin' like they with it but don't want no Smokey Robinson

Put that girlie on the runway, I had her modelin'

Bobblin', all I know is pourin' up and profitin'

Feds put a hold on brodie bond way out in Roslyn

Tickets on tuck from all them racks that I be coddlin'

Fondlin', kept that nickel on me like I'm Donovan

Past was kinda gloomy but my future lookin' promisin'

Mr. Put That Shit On Every Day, I'm overconfident

No condiment, but down in commonwealth I'm like a communist

My jewels clankin', spot hot, seven hundred degrees

Pieces blew, watch playin' peekaboo under my sleeve

Them frames winkin', bitches talkin' got my name ringin'

Blow like a slinky, got my pinky and my chain blingin'

Pockets full of mixed bills, Pyrex full of fishscale

Ten thousand on your head, I'll show you why they call it Hitsville

No friendly neighborhood shit but it's blue tips in the tin mill

My youngin Peter Parker, shit, he spider-webbin' windshields

Let's get it