1989 (feat. Stove God Cooks)

Every other city we go Every other ghetto No matter where I go I see the same folds Ayo We can meet at Carbone Meet me at the Aria Hundred round Glock on me (gangsta, gangsta) Look wrong, I'm poppin' ya (boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom) Three piece Salvatore Lookin' like the mafia Wrist cost twenty bricks, neck like a hockey puck Hopped out the maybach (skrrt), then did a walk up (boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom) Every bad bitch in my city, I done fucked 'em (ahh) I'm the flyest shooter never seen, nigga fuck ya Bodybag on top of bodybag, nigga wassup? (Doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot) Hustler in my veins, left the gang for Marco bacon Central park legend, cheffin' in Versace aprons (whip) Rest in peace Dip, lil bitch, I'm the shit (ah) Rest in peace Munch, havin' gecko for lunch Rest in peace Pete, park a Benz in the street (skrrt) Rest in peace Boo, got shooters on the roof (grr) Rest in peace Joe, richest nigga in the low Bricks got hit then stamped on it off the boat (mmm) I heard them niggas tellin', my niggas present Hit his ass with a buckshot (boom boom boom) That nigga yellin' Smilin' on my mugshot (mmm), two-time felon Bullets went clean through (boom boom boom) Now we stretchin' One thousand (one thousand) One thousand 36 ounces, I turned up in public houses 36 ounces, rich in public houses I might shoot the Rolls Royce through your block I might shoot the Maybach through your block (gangsta, gangsta) I might have young boy come- fuck it (brr, baow-baow) One thousand One thousand Smilin' on the fed cameras Rest in peace Well, we still smilin' at the fed cameras 36 ounces (woo) Had my momma calling my phone like This shit gotta stop one day (woo) If ain't no switch on it, that ain't gunplay (brr, baow-baow) I might drop a hundred bricks on yo' block (a hundred) I might have a hundred shooters on yo' block (haha) You know me and my niggas really rich, do you not? One thousand (one thousand) One thousand 36 ounces, I turned up in public houses (I turned it up) 36 ounces, bricks in public houses (I turned it up) I might shoot the Rolls Royce through your block (keep goin') I might shoot the Maybach through your block (real shit) I might have young boy come- fuck it (brr, baow-baow) Say a prayer for me Gangsta Grizills And Then You Pray For Me Lord knows I need it Demons on my shoulders Demons in the streets Demons in my sheets If any of y'all can stop God body Trials and tribulations only make me stronger We built for this Nigga we built this We preach it to the streets forever Legendary