(feat. Chipmunk) Yoo Believe, yoo believe, yoo believe, You're a "G", cause u went to da park, With ure friends n let a shot off in da sky, I'm a g cause
tops and windows Penitentiary poems on fo' do's, dipping in low low's Finger fucking my 4-4, on a bitch made nigga fo' do' [Hook - 2x] [Trae] Slow mo', when on the block 4
hit him where it hurt I'll let him make it, but his mama and daddy gon see a hearse Fuck a driveby, I want him to look me in my eyes Let him call Junior
if I pop the trunk, its to hand you a rag So you can wipe down the windows on the side of my Jag Must I brag? My shit paid for, yours tagged And every
him eat. And while he was eating, I would talk to him while he was eating, and I would ask him what he's doing. And he would say, "I'm using the chicken
, pulling my guns out and shit, Your tempting me to run my mouth, and call you out on this bitch, I heard the reason you got to beater to believe any
doin' erything that make you fall in love It might seem nothin' heard of, but it's true I dont have a reason to lie to you I got'cha back, just believe
life and I come to get it [Chorus x4:] Puttin' check down Step down, or let's get down And then we burn down the next town I believe I can fly, never
can't push up Or even sit up to fight for what they believe in He thought about it I said, "Peace, keep breathing." I see him mumbling, shrugging his
found a thug, I'm down with you Instead of filling him up with lead, with gun shots to the head She's at the bar she's getting him drunk, and he taking
well And it's one thing I believe in, don't ever leave and retrieve Killers jumping off by the evenings now 97' just another hunting season Niggas in it 6 feet deep and no reason
you wanna take to meet cha' mother No matter what baby keeps it (Name brand) Never let a nigga change her (Game plan) Even though it might look like she switch up Every
reincarnated as a 45 I woulda opened fire But everything happen for a reason every thing got a time and a season It all boil down to what you believe
him kill the season, Paid checks heavy It's King Jaffe-Jo get ya tape decks ready We guerilla breathin', Killa Season Feel the Evening, Killin' Season Watch him
I pop the trunk, its to hand you a rag So you can wipe down the windows on the side of my Jag Must I brag? My shit paid for, yours tagged And every bitch