Letras:
Fucked Up Looking For God

(Instrumental)

wrong path, Smokin weed sellin weed failin out of class. But now it's like fuck what the po think I'm a let the dro stank But I ain't for crack ya'll

for glorification Now I remember so vivid me and my niggas was living Sub-standard condition still handling business Still laughing and tripping still having the bitches I'm rapping now reminiscing and god

it, that spin in it for mine Can't see him in it, I been tinted up mine But you know a nigga look oh so gangsta Oh no thank ya, I earned my key My name'll get you fucked up

Who the fuck I be Uh, yeah, but um [singing] I'm with that S-T-R-E-E-T F-A-M-I-L-Y Uh, for you non-spellin motherfuckers, Street Family Yeah, uh, Brooklyn Uh, fuck up

Bucks and Brewers throw backs [Chorus] Throwback this, Throwback that They even look better with the matching hat All you gotta check is the players stats It aint where you for

foreign cars into the stars Fuck bitches at our leisure Stuff dick inside they throat til they have seizures Hoes down, B's up Roll the trees up, Smokey

in, Started Up, break It Down, rock It Up Looked This Shit A lot films on my block but it's not enough Champagne pourin when criiss style Bottles bust For

Hit 'em up" This is a lot of dead bodies, who gonna pick them up We just shot the corner Who gonna drive the truck Fuck the whole G-Unit who lied to Buck