If this rap go, then I rap more
I like to talk my shit, I'm an asshole
I like to set it off, check the stats, bro
I been on a mission as far as that goes
I got them at a distance, ain't no way that they'll get me
A true story, really why these rappers don't feel me
Hope the family slide, I see the envy in they eyes
Usually take the Yoda, but Brody got the X5
Usually take the Volvo, but Brody got the Mercedes outside
Yeah, uh, finish what we started I picture like Ferrari,
I see the house nostalgic we built it off of profit,
Built it off of passionWe got the city lit up,
You think that I'm the mailman the way that I deliver,
I see these bitches bitter these bitches know I been up
Cold spitter, mic killer, Dope dealer, rap killer,
Mike jack Mike Thriller, Mike Jordan, Mike, uh
Got the gas, don't pump Got the pack, no fronts
Got my dawgs front line, treat my dawgs with love
Yeah, started in the apartments, cuttin' off the Mack
My Brody pushin' Acura, started writin' raps
My Brody pushin' Civic, we was high on packs
Splittin' them mills up, split the ramen pack up
Talkin' out your neck, uh, see your Twitter rant, huh
Your bitch gave me head, dawg, she gave me all of that
You better come correct, dawg, I'm ridin' with my slat
She said she feel safer over here, she ran it back
If this was chess, we'd be yellin' checkmate three f***in' years ago
Cause we been beat these b***hs, it's not a game
We out here tryin' to help our people make money
We tryin' to get out of this three strike circle they got us in
And start gettin' our pen papers on, so that's what we doin
By strength in numbers
Yeah, survival of the fittest
I'm jiggy and I'm gifted
My youngin' from the trenches
Mechanics play a difference
I'm puttin' up the numbers
Married to the gang shit
Mama raised a hustler
Off to the masses
So this the last supper
I hit him with a pivot
Step back for a jumper
Hit him like it's 96
Death row summer
I gave these boys rhythm
Don't you play me for a sucker
I gave these boys so high
He switch up on his brothers
Yeah, ain't no sympathy
Get rid of him
You can't riddle me
They holdin' eagles, I hold remedies
Blueprints, this a ransom to my enemies
Yeah
IV - No Need To Say More Lyrics
IV - No Need To Say More Lyrics
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If this rap go, then I rap more
I like to talk my shit, I'm an asshole
I like to set it off, check the stats, bro
I been on a mission as far as that goes
I got them at a distance, ain't no way that they'll get me
A true story, really why these rappers don't feel me
Hope the family slide, I see the envy in they eyes
Usually take the Yoda, but Brody got the X5
Usually take the Volvo, but Brody got the Mercedes outside
Yeah, uh, finish what we started I picture like Ferrari,
I see the house nostalgic we built it off of profit,
Built it off of passionWe got the city lit up,
You think that I'm the mailman the way that I deliver,
I see these bitches bitter these bitches know I been up
Cold spitter, mic killer, Dope dealer, rap killer,
Mike jack Mike Thriller, Mike Jordan, Mike, uh
Got the gas, don't pump Got the pack, no fronts
Got my dawgs front line, treat my dawgs with love
Yeah, started in the apartments, cuttin' off the Mack
My Brody pushin' Acura, started writin' raps
My Brody pushin' Civic, we was high on packs
Splittin' them mills up, split the ramen pack up
Talkin' out your neck, uh, see your Twitter rant, huh
Your bitch gave me head, dawg, she gave me all of that
You better come correct, dawg, I'm ridin' with my slat
She said she feel safer over here, she ran it back
If this was chess, we'd be yellin' checkmate three f***in' years ago
Cause we been beat these b***hs, it's not a game
We out here tryin' to help our people make money
We tryin' to get out of this three strike circle they got us in
And start gettin' our pen papers on, so that's what we doin
By strength in numbers
Yeah, survival of the fittest
I'm jiggy and I'm gifted
My youngin' from the trenches
Mechanics play a difference
I'm puttin' up the numbers
Married to the gang shit
Mama raised a hustler
Off to the masses
So this the last supper
I hit him with a pivot
Step back for a jumper
Hit him like it's 96
Death row summer
I gave these boys rhythm
Don't you play me for a sucker
I gave these boys so high
He switch up on his brothers
Yeah, ain't no sympathy
Get rid of him
You can't riddle me
They holdin' eagles, I hold remedies
Blueprints, this a ransom to my enemies
Yeah
I like to talk my shit, I'm an asshole
I like to set it off, check the stats, bro
I been on a mission as far as that goes
I got them at a distance, ain't no way that they'll get me
A true story, really why these rappers don't feel me
Hope the family slide, I see the envy in they eyes
Usually take the Yoda, but Brody got the X5
Usually take the Volvo, but Brody got the Mercedes outside
Yeah, uh, finish what we started I picture like Ferrari,
I see the house nostalgic we built it off of profit,
Built it off of passionWe got the city lit up,
You think that I'm the mailman the way that I deliver,
I see these bitches bitter these bitches know I been up
Cold spitter, mic killer, Dope dealer, rap killer,
Mike jack Mike Thriller, Mike Jordan, Mike, uh
Got the gas, don't pump Got the pack, no fronts
Got my dawgs front line, treat my dawgs with love
Yeah, started in the apartments, cuttin' off the Mack
My Brody pushin' Acura, started writin' raps
My Brody pushin' Civic, we was high on packs
Splittin' them mills up, split the ramen pack up
Talkin' out your neck, uh, see your Twitter rant, huh
Your bitch gave me head, dawg, she gave me all of that
You better come correct, dawg, I'm ridin' with my slat
She said she feel safer over here, she ran it back
If this was chess, we'd be yellin' checkmate three f***in' years ago
Cause we been beat these b***hs, it's not a game
We out here tryin' to help our people make money
We tryin' to get out of this three strike circle they got us in
And start gettin' our pen papers on, so that's what we doin
By strength in numbers
Yeah, survival of the fittest
I'm jiggy and I'm gifted
My youngin' from the trenches
Mechanics play a difference
I'm puttin' up the numbers
Married to the gang shit
Mama raised a hustler
Off to the masses
So this the last supper
I hit him with a pivot
Step back for a jumper
Hit him like it's 96
Death row summer
I gave these boys rhythm
Don't you play me for a sucker
I gave these boys so high
He switch up on his brothers
Yeah, ain't no sympathy
Get rid of him
You can't riddle me
They holdin' eagles, I hold remedies
Blueprints, this a ransom to my enemies
Yeah
Writer: Irwin Vega
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC