(feat. Cosmo, Killa Tay)



[VERSE 1: JT The Bigga Figga]

We play hardball, runnin these streets in different routes

Make the paper count, stuffed in the couch, we got clout

All I talk about is cheddar-chasin, we in the Jets

In a parking lot in a bubble goose rockin a vest

So we mean-muggin, whole trunk full of goodies

Burner gloves, Timbos, Levis and the hoodies

I'm in and out of B-210, juice & gin

Crack the window when you smokin them bidi's, pass the Hen

Overdrive in the passenger side, my niggas ride

For the westside, 415, ????

By the look in his eyes, you never been around the block though

Bustin off rounds or crack dealin to keep it hot tough

Dancin with the shift, get skirtin, illegal motion

Stoppin for the cops and it's curtains, so keep coastin

When they dust for prints ain't no punks in this

And if they ever bring the drama get the pumps for this



[CHORUS: Cosmo]

We ain't got shit to lose but much to gain

We young thugs who done felt much pain

Drug dealers who touched caine

Stuck in the game like 'fuck fame'

Makin weak cats tuck they chains

Ain't nothin changed



[VERSE 2: Killa Tay]

I serve a punk quick like Serena and Venus

Foul language, broken English, but my style's the cleanest

I was born on the East but I reside on the West

Officially Supernatural, so I ride to the death

Express my plans to my fans, put my spirit in lyrics

Eternal threats after a mic check, let the whole world hear it

They call me Mister Mafioso, the one and only 

Runnin a mob, gettin the job done, no love for the phoneys

I'm representin WCM to the fullest, my nigga

Pullin strings like a trigger, posted up with the stigma

I lay my hat somewhere in ???? protectin my family 

My homies ain't understandin me cause they live in a fantasy

I got deep ties and I'll keep wise, respect from the West to the Eastside

These gees ride just to put it down in my British Knights and my Levis

But now we all O.G., livin casual, ready to travel

Ain't no equal to this God Mob crew, who wanna battle?



[CHORUS: Cosmo]



[VERSE 3: Cosmo]

We livin in the last days where gats spray

Hittin cats from blocks away

Crooked cops tryin to stop the pay

They think we rockin lley

Tryin to monitor the ways that we operate

Cause we won't cooperate

We stay large, we break jawbones and get our ball on

On the block hustlin dope till it's all gone

I'm almost all grown, I got a .380 Beretta and it's all chrome

I know I'm all wrong for all the thug livin and drug dealin

I put my ears to the streets but all I'm hearin is these slugs peelin

When they come killin ain't no words fo'

All you seein is beanies, black pistols and herb smoke

Dirty money wrapped in rubberbands

Young killas dyin over scrilla, I heard he went out over a hundred grand

Penitentiary cells blocks

Is full of young thugs who ain't got no choice but to sell rocks

I know my future was planned for me to succeed

I'd die to see my homie G-Spot and mama live free

A lotta suckers wanna get me, plottin on seein me

Dead, got they glocks aimed for my kidneys



[CHORUS: Cosmo]