TNG Jay Bandz - 3.5

3.5 up on my Richter scale
I Like to smoke a lot
So why would you roll a lil blunt
This wood I gotta fill A lot
Get fried befo the bag then I Gotta go and punch the clock
I love to get money so the hustle won't ever stop

Grew up in the hood Og smokin told me that I should not
I became a man The trenches like the school of hard knocks
When I be spinnin late tell bae can she leave the door unlocked
She like boy who you wit, Man I'm out here man it's just me and my glock

I know a white boy named Chris
And I still fuck with black kris too (Squabs)
Them boys hella laid back aint no drama we be okay cool
If you don't believe that I be chilling ask Dougs what I do (Dougs)

I be sitting back smokin sippin wine like I'm in LA DUDE
And if you ain't tryna live a good
Life its gone show thru you
I Wear my heart up on my sleeve they told Me that's what I shouldn't do
And If you don't believe in yourself then why would they fuck with you
If you don't believe in yourself why would they fuck with you

3.5 up on my Richter scale
I Like to smoke a lot
So why would you roll a lil blunt
This wood I gotta fill A lot
Get fried befo the bag then I Gotta go punch the clock
I love to get money so the hustle won't ever stop

Before I let a opp nigga
Catch me I'll turn his ass to smoke
Roll me a luh back wood of the gas this be the fire dope
I'm TALKIN bout the green boy nah not no fuckin coke!
And This be a luh Rollin tune and ima show ya how to blow

His homie got hit wit a choppa he can't ain't even retaliate
How you be in da kitchen but don't know how to wake n bake
You wasn't in there wit the pot so how the fuck you get the cake
All the real niggas getting money got they hands up because they relate

Written by:
Jay Bandz

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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