Street Chains

Straight from the East side Blood gang, we heavy Fuck nigga, dare me I turn into Freddy My fingers machetes Trap house jumpin' like Monta Ellis We trap out the 'telly when we outta town Uzi on deck Phone ringin' off the hook, bitch, that's the plug Ocean view bedroom, baby See through showers and I just put some fish in my tub Hold up, I ain't playin' Niggas say they rich, I say "And?" Same old song, I ain't dance Heater on my waist, hotter than a frying pan If you don't see what I'm sayin' I give your ass a fuckin' eye exam I ain't playin' Guns in my hands, I ain't prayin' Fireman spittin' venom, Spiderman, I'm enhanced I’m at peace, joggin' pants cost at least about a grand I'm advanced like Japan Got more sand than Sudan, Lord And life ain't nothin' but a long day And tomorrow ain't nothin' but a long way away You know that haters come in all sizes, all shapes, 'kay That's why I had to get a little more trunk space Got insurance on the trap house, Allstate Got the trap house pumpin' like a heart rate Got the trap house pumpin' like a 808 Boom, like a 808 I could fly around that bitch, need a tarmac I just landed in Cuba, need a straw hat I gotta get the raw back, I need a format I put the shit on horseback and start my own ranch From where they don't talk smack, they just snort smack I'll turn your head to an open hot sauce pack I tell the bitch some true lies and some false facts Boy, I'm drownin' in the syrup like a short stack Ooh, 187, 211 Hockey mask on, Wayne Gretzky Stunt my ass off, chain heavy Your bitch get passed on, chain letter Train smoker, smoke plain, never Had a date with the Devil Then I changed schedules I'm a trained killer Like a paid killer Better yet, Saddam Hussein nephew Nigga, no love That's from the bottom of my heart I pull up and paint your whole fucking block red Then get out of my car and admire my art Then smile at my thoughts My bitch from Atlanta got eyes like a hawk She see why I'm a boss I just got another speeding ticket on the Bugatti While it was parked Now I don't wan' talk, bitch, I don't wan' talk Lean in my punch, I decided to spar Anybody want war? I'm excited to start Get indicted tomorrow I be out by the morn Before I even yawn Stay in ya lane, I remind these lil' boys This is victory lane, now do I need a horn? The struggle is real, and the Bible too long I'm writing my will, and I'm typing my won'ts Lord, please Kilos, OZ's 'Cause my bitch high class, she like Pinot and cheese I dropped out of class so I'm zero degrees I can out-think a shrink, she can deep throat a tree I can hijack a Brinks, so my sweet soda pink I'm a freak show to freaks I'm spitting these bars, hope my bar tab is cheap I'm a hard man to reach I'm newborn and deceased I'm too hard for this beat I'm the heart and the beat The Chong and the Cheech My blunt long as a speech Roach look like a leech I'm too long for the brief I'm too wrong for the priest With this chrome on your teeth That get blown out your cheek Like my bitch mixed, like Long Island Tea She don't hide her figure, she don't hide her feet I'm the head nigga, like Prodigy And bitch, I'ma shine, like Connery Yeah And life ain't nothin' but a long day Tomorrow ain't nothin' but a long way, away