[chorus x2]



Fool I got yay

Straight from the dec on a grindin' day

Late night I hit the hemp fold of greens

Right back to the trap serving fiends



[verse 1: Wicked]



Check the eyes of a ragin' savage

Fuck my bitch

Fuck Oprah

Fuck marriage

Get it in gold

Don't ask Wicked for shit

I'm over charging these niggas for this blowned up shit

Those punk-ass niggas in the hood want his cash back

(Man y'all know you overcharged for dat count of wax(?)) 

I can't tell Nino

They've added 'em up like burnouts

(Just some punk-ass niggas who put the word out)

I'm the judge I've got a grudge

I'm holdin' court

Gonna finish you nigga

Gonna raid your fort

Evidently y'all don't know I'm irregular 

Not your average dope dealer, burgular

See I got yay so I'm in it for a minute

Damn Columbians look to fuck they own business

I send a shoutout to my niggas in the cells

Fallen Gs, broke niggas, and head swellers

See y'all are bitches and the jury can came with ease(?)

All the cars in cribs can't fade my cheese 

Last night I had a talk with the devil

He said, "Wicked(!) take this game to another level"

In my mind ain't no peace but the 9

That's why I stay ever on the grind

Grind in Decatum every day

Fool I got yay



[verse 2: Wicked]



Fool I'm climbin'

Straight grindin

(Gangsta!)

Still risin'

I got my first 20 Gs at seventeen

And fuck a Benz I had a Chevy and Maclean's(?)

All them years in the hood I turned them Gs

Sucked the life from the hood like some fleas

Shit was cool 'till we blew up

Yeah, and now them faces are curious where we grew up

Went from Jag to Jetta, Jetta to hooptie

So them punk-ass cops wouldn't detect me

I flipped an H(?) so I could fold and give double-ups

My hip is blown(?)

I can't sleep uncovered up

I had to jump out the hood for several reasons

Bitches were snitchin'

Niggas were schemin'

And Ghetto Mafia was under inditement

One from the fed

One from the president



[chorus]



[outro]