Terry street…on the corner, of the avenue..
Bullet holes, through street signs…under cable lines, and a pair of shoes
we live a life…that most of yall, be scared to do
When the sun go down…you best know that…
you don’t walk… through
aye yo, we ridin on these MFs
fuck it…fuck em..
bend the corner, watch me banging out the window…buckin’
im bangin on these MFs…fingers twisted, hollow tips, up in my clip(s)
…and im aiming where those lips is…the devil in my ear, saying…don’t need to listen
So im up all night…slanging white, trying to live that savage life
No remorse…and I forgot, what im in it for…
We outta weed, and outta liquor…nigga, we need some more


Streets is looking crazy…got me prayn fo ya
I mean, we loss so many soldiers…got me missin my dogs
I said im, im tryna stack my paper…to get up outta these streets
no matter how far I get…they keep on callin for me


Mercy, inshallah…on god, I gotta get it straight
Grinding on the interstate…pockets on ‘devastated’
Smoking til im comatose…you could say im vegetated
Heavily sedated…but shit, that’s just my medication
Grinding got me stressing…got me dealing with these meth cases
But grinding got me something…got me building up my net base
It “cracked” me into action…while these others, just spectate
They talking from the sidelines…but we don’t care, what they say
My niggas don’t need…your commentary
We need that money…on commissary
To keep em callin home…to occupy, they mind and time, in there
no stopping here…we keep it pushing…no stopping gear
My niggas is all gas…like full tank, all year!


Streets is looking crazy…got me prayn fo ya
I mean, we loss so many soldiers…got me missin my dogs
I said im, im tryna stack my paper…to get up outta these streets
not matter how far I get…they keep on callin for me


Im steady grinding…im out here, tryin stack for mines
And if ya tryin find ya boy…im on the front lines
Aye leave a message…cause, you can not…see the experts
They think we same cloth…but ima different texture…
Im on a different level…a motorcycle rebel
Im more like like hard rock…they more like fruity pebbles
And I aint listening…to all your gossip, babble…
I have em switching they words up…this aint a game scrabble…
I rep seattle, cats rattle…when they battle me
Like I aint bad enough to….stand my own, and keep it street
I’ll treat this like an art class…MF…cut it out
These rappers are only rappers…with my name all up in they mouth
Mortal kombat, fatality…is how I finish out