(feat. Billy Cook)



[Hook x2]

Niggaz be stressing me, niggaz be testing me

Taking my kindness for a weakness, in this industry

Niggaz be stressing me, trying to get everything for free

Knowing that anything worth having, costs a pretty penny



[Billy Cook]

I gotta get raw, this time around dog

Cause motherfuckers, thinking they can push me in the ground

Just saying do anything to me, expect to know my peeps

So this song goes out, to those haters who envy me

My point exactly, they ain't gotta be a platinum song

Just as long as you get the message, you hear in this song

I got a lovely remedy, for this shit

But in the face or the mind, ghetto platinum hits

When you doing something right, niggaz got something bad to say

See I ain't trying to please, these phony busters anyway



[Hook x2]



[Billy Cook]

It was some niggaz on there, sure was talking about my hair

Now they're broke, and they're all what living there

How you gon let a nigga like me, slip through your fingers yo

It's kinda like you hit the lotto, then just lost it all

See I'm a ghetto platinum nigga, I'm gon shine this year

Y'all can't stop what God has for me, it's so crystal clear

So now sit back, relax and enjoy the ride

You had yours on, now it's Cook and Trae's time

Don't start none, won't be none

Don't start none, won't be noooone

Don't start none, won't be none

Don't start none, won't be none



[Hook x2]



[Trae]

Still stuck between real and fake

But I'ma eliminate fake, when I beat the hate

I'm on my last leg, and on the verge of clicking

And these cats ain't gon learn, till they come up missing

Niggaz taking the help, that I give for granted

Me and Cook been wrecking shit, for too long

You better get your ass up, and get your stacks up

Trying to roll chop for me, and get you messed up

I'm sick and tired, of these wanna be fake type

Industry hype, all about the limelight

Living life shife, and ride a nigga dick tight

Better go on, cause I'm the real nigga type

And I'm squaring it off, till it's over

Stress done got me, running out my mind

And I put it on the line, each and every time

Since they messed up my vibe, now the haters mine

It ain't no more friends, ain't no more foes

Ain't no more kin folk, and no more hoes

Just me and the Maab, and S.L.A.B.

And I'ma rep my click, until the curtain close

Lord knows, I'm due for earning my crown

I done waited my time, and now it's going down

Trae and Billy Cook, Stress the remix

Life in the street niggaz, better move around



[Billy Cook]

I ain't trying to start nothing, ya'll can feel fa sho

I keeps it real can you tell, by the way I spit it yo

This is the first and last time, thugging on a negative vibe

I shoulda done these writing songs, are going ninety wide

You think I'm talking about you, if the shoe fit wear it dog

You done pissed me off, this was the last straw

You whack producers who think, your tracks are the bomb

I thought you knew you need a platinum, wasn't a real song

I can go on and on, while all while sealing the flow

See all you niggaz really need me, but you don't hear me though



[Hook x2]



[Billy Cook]

Yeah, hey yeeeeah

Trae help me out, Trae help me out

The Maab, yeeeeah BMG 1965

The click, the squad, help me out

Oooo-oooooh, weeeell



These niggaz don't want none