I was there and I ain't never Yeah, yeah I was hurtin' But I ain't need you Streets never, mhm Streets don't love you, they'll turn their back on you Streets don't love you, they will turn their back on you They'll turn their back on you
Streets don't love you, they killed Quado Streets don't love you, they killed Beasty Let my niggas come home tomorrow Don't just let them see me on Tv Let my niggas up out that you know You don't even know how I be thinkin', that shit crazy Not my broski, no, not my bros, yeah Let my niggas come home tomorrow Free V12, yo I remember when we was like twelve, we went through hell, yo Back when niggas was gettin' they Biggies and they Pelles took Bitches used to curve me, used to swerve me, nigga, now look They ain't never want me, now they askin' to get they nails done I know I smell like dope, they gassin' me, tellin' me I smell good Passin' me the pussy, I passed it to my homie real quick Audacity to ask me 'bout the bitches that I still fuck The audacity to ask me 'bout the bitches that I still fuck Your ass is lookin' fat, them Fashion Nova jeans look real good I'm glad that I came up 'cause I ain't know where I would end up The thirty clip is on me but the hoodie cover my extendo And niggas act so tough But I just swear they don't wanna start, though Let me tell you 'bout this young nigga from the Bronx, though Everybody want his head, but nobody had his heart, though Robbin' everybody like he don't believe in karma Somebody told the feds what he did, they lined him Told 'em where that nigga lived, yeah, they really lined him He still sleepin' at his crib like fuck it if they find him Price is on his head 'cause he hit a oppa Money on his head got him movin' wiser Hoodie on his head, they wanna pin his poncho Pulled up to the crib, he livin' wit' his moms though But they don't even care, they like, "Hit 'em all up" His eyes turned red and his fists balled up Voices in his head sayin', "Kill them all, " but Bullets hittin' glass, goin' through the walls, oh All he heard was screamin', he feel like his time's up He ain't have no time to go reach for a glove He just grabbed the pump, start squeezin' at the door But then he seen his moms laid out on the floor He dropped down to his knees, head high to the Lord Ain't the type to cry, but his mom, he really loved Tears from his eyes dropped beside of the blood He wishin' it won't hurt, but he cried 'cause it does Then he put his own pump right to his mouth
Like nah-nah-nah Yeah, nah-nah Nah-nah-nah-nah Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah No No-no-no-no-no No-no Like nah-nah-nah-nah-nah Oh-oh Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Woah-oh Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah Nah-nah Nah, nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah Nah-nah-nah-nah Yeah
Compositores: Jahaan Akil Sweet, Artist J Dubose (A Boogie), Tash Philips ECAD: Obra #25141064