Now there's one in hood off Picko or some shit Through the years its been the center for alotta dumb shit Lemme tell you about this one trip to the store Where the early mornin' tints sometime 'round four I was standing by the magazines readin' a Maxim When I heard a familiar voice to the the counter dude and ask him To empty out the register (Naw that can't be Trevor) Excuse me, Tiny T-Bone from the neighborhood gang Who if his head wasn't screwed on he would lose his brain He was with two other dudes, I don't remember their names I thought great, it was time for me to shake But as I headed to the door I heard a voice say (Wait) When I turned around, he recognized me and I knew it I was about to leave, that's when that nigga blew it He lifted up his mask and said (Hey Murs it's me Trevor) I said "You dumb motherfucker do you use your brain, ever?" Nevermind, I turned around gave a deuce walkin' to the car feelin like Q in Juice Remember when he wouldn't barb Liz and let him loose? Anyway here comes this nigga running, big bag of money He hoped in ride, I said "You Goddamn dummy They Got Yo Ass on Tape" (But they didn't see my face) "Well they got my car and my fuckin license plate Man get the fuck gone" (Murs why you gotta hate) "Hate nor love got shit to do with this You better run for the fives come through this bitch You know you got to strikes, you better use them new Nikes To dodge all them blue lights" He looked and said (You right) Then he bolted up the street once he left my slight I gave a sigh of relief But that was right before I peeped, this dumb motherfucker left the bag full of money sitting right there on my passenger seat
Compositores: Patrick Denard Douthit (Ninth Wonder), Nicholas Carter (Murs) ECAD: Obra #16922849