Skilla Baby, G Herbo and Rob49 - Mike Jack

(MIA JAY C)
Yeah, phew
Mm-hmm, mm
Keep all that
Ha

In L.A. with my nigga Herb, my twin from the 'Raq
I ain't gon' lie, my nigga starvin', he'll sin for his stacks
Spent ninety days in the trap, just to leave and catch a hat
Quick to get a nigga robbed with four .9s, welcome to Vulture Island
In my hood, they call me Simon, killers do what I say
Every diamond came from Gary, they think this from Eliantte
My wrist on "Get out my way," my Cuban link on Pavé
I keep a yeah, I'm not Tay, come get your bitch out my face

Thank God I went legit from street shit and chose rap
Grab a million from the 'Raq, hop on a plane and fly back
Hundred shots go off for free, he died, but he fired back
Thought lil' foe'nem was from the D, they scratched off in five Scats
I'm in a BP Cadillac, we got Double-Rs back to back
Switch start glitchin' like it got Tourette's
Switched three bitches, I was off X
I'm gettin' rich, I ain't breakin' a sweat, I just got an ASCAP check
And I bought me a Rolex, that bitch rose like Moët (yeah)

Stop the cap, you ain't catch no hat, we doin' the dash in Scats, nigga
Fuck your hood, I ain't coppin' pleas, bitch, if it's that, it's that, nigga
I'm with G Herbo in the 'Raq, but I can't lack, it ain't in me
I ain't laugh with none of these hoes, bitch, take 'em off, I'm dead serious, woo
Huh, I done did more hoes than Michael Jackson did his shows, nigga
I done sold more 'bows than Ralph Lauren done sold clothes, nigga
T hittin', this ain't come from Johnny, we ain't like niggas
I buy bitches bodies, I'm her bitch-ass boyfriend nightmare

I don't just be sayin' shit, my boy, I'm really rich, for real
When I'm in the field, I keep that whistle on me, Emmitt Till
PTSD from them gunshots, them bitches give me chills
Trap bangin', know I'm for real, cookie sales, Mrs. Fields
Lord knows I can't afford another F, but niggas playin', God
The whole city know what me and cuz do on the yeah side
All we know is Scats, Tracks, Hellcats, Redeyes
My lil' bitch keep blick, she quick to face some shit, Barreleye (yeah, ha)

On the yeah side, niggas know we be on yeah time, alright
That's my uncle in that kitchen makin' his hand lock, alright
Wear yo' mask when you in that kitchen, make you pass out, alright
Bitch, I love when you come through, have that ass up
Lord, we the reason they buy hearses, we buyin' bitches purses, huh
I know niggas who want it all, but ain't tryna put that work in, huh
Pull up in the turtle, bulletproof'll make niggas nervous, huh
Bring your friend when you slide through, make this shit a circus, huh
Fuck me right now, girl, come fuck me right now

Ho already know I'm lit, she suckin' dick straight off the flight out, uh
It's her and her friend right now, I wanna see, don't turn the light out
Can't get no sleep and this money keep callin' me, I'm puttin' 'em right out
Lil' bro got locked, sent the kite out, scope on the AR, took the sight out
We got twenty Glocks when we pop out, niggas get killed, what we fightin' 'bout?
With some boss niggas that's locked in who wanna see me win
Fuck-nigga walked into that Glock 10, made CNN
I know trapstars sell green and hard, no CPNs
I got five percent on eight cars, can't see me in
And my big cuz, he renegade, he GDK, but he GDN
He EBK, might kill his mans, gotta watch his kin
He don't want no bust down watch, he want the newest Gen
Slide off the strip and let off shots, I'm still gon' hit his hand
Like he discovered Young Buck and fucked up many men
You thought Doe Boy was one of us? We jump out minivans (uh)

Written by:
Herbert Wright, Joshua White, Robert Thomas, Trevon Gardner

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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