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Pound For Pound
(专辑: GOTTI - 2021)
I
don't think, pound for pound, John I
don't think there's a
more sincere, better guy in this fucking world than me Th-the more for everybody You could see-see what I
got, you could see what I
got compared to what other people got And I
can't believe what I
read and what I
hear I
don't know who this guy is that they're talking about Maybe somebody could introduce me to him someday I
don't believe 'em I
told Benny I
got plenty Machine, what up? Mozzy, Gangland They treat us like pharaohs, AK with two barrels Used to have a
bitch selling pussy for me on O'Farrell In the
middle of the
candle, there's a
twenty grand stack Heat the
glass, pull the
wax out, and cut that bitch in half Carbon paper 'round the
paper, making fifty stack flimsy Feeling like a
magazine, sending cash gets tricky I'm bags not blicky, no smalls in the
pack When they froze the
bank account, I
thought I
would fall back I
miss Encrochat, used to wipe my phone clean Three times a
week, different level to the
stream Throw a
few Gs on each, I'm somewhere out of reach When the
phone loses service, I'll be back in town with heat My old plug out in Maryland, got caught up with some heroin Controlled buy at the
four-point Sheridan Fuck a
snitch, let 'em die slowly Around here I'm the
big homie, the
top male only Yeah The
opposition ain't no competition Loaded chopper in this Honda Civic, I
stay on top of business It's sneak dissing when you not specific The
DA gave that boy a
deal, he turned it down, he's very optimistic Perpetrator, baby, not the
victim We unforgiven when it come to tripping, it spit out double digits You want this Pacquiao? Then come and get it I
put them boogers 'round my Granny Goose referring to this flooded image It's hard to leave 'em when you love the
trenches Where was the
love when I
locked and you ain't come to visit? They cracked the
code, went through the
phone and ain't find nothing in it You touch a
ticket then you tuck a
ticket Tell 'em run the
trinket, yeah We money motivated, fuck these bitches We pull up at back to back to back in all these younger Benzes I
never ratted, that's a
fact, it ain't no smut on niggas Said all this hustling got me up on niggas What's up with niggas? Street nigga since a
young boy, knee-deep in the
game Cooking up before school, school clothes reeking of 'caine Always keep it a
hunnid, you better keep it the
same Niggas'll rest in peace you just for a
small piece of my chain Need to refrain from ever speaking my name Call my shooter, Method Man, one call, he bringing the
pain Say they just your homeboys while police think you a
gang The
people can't wait to hit you with RICO, think it's a
game And the
feds applying pressure to the
weakest link in your chain Now listen to the
weakened chief in a
unbelievable strain (Talk to 'em) Say they shooters, believe you me, we do the
same Scoping a
beam on that mop, I'm just increasing my aim (Yeah) Nobody do it how we do it Educated, luxury, coke rap, street music The
impossible? You seen Machine do it Made fifty off a
thousand dollar pounds of mid, those the
G-Units Tell niggas, "Cut it out," they barely got heart Tell 'em, "Cut it out," hopping out the
coupe, gun butt 'em out Throw 'em in the
passenger, maybe it's the
Porsche Or the
NSX Acura, let me be accurate Money in the
vacuum in a
house made to clap at ya Fuck about your shooter Me? I
got a
homie that'll throw you off the
roof Vacay in Aruba, he could dog food uzi in a
Uber I
been outside since Dougie Fresh, Slick Rick the
Ruler Violate? That's a
shot to your medula, point-blank I
could run the
point Take my points, that's how point rank (That's how I
rank) Never mind all this plug lingo The
Ringo, hellcat engine, I
would have dubbed Nino (I would have dubbed him) If this was New Jack City, I
would have shot him in the
face, brought the
crew back with me Yeah From the
first to the
thirty-first, we outside doing dirty work If you got it from the
mud, you was dirty first The
Butcher coming, nigga When this rap shit over, I
at least need twenty out it, M's So I'ma need less friends and more money counters Perfect life for who? That's what y'all think? That's funny, how? 'Cause I'm stressed I
guess I
just don't deal with no money problems (money ain't a
problem) How to make a
million dollars? Guess I'm the
perfect example of it Well, streets guided me this far, so how can't I
love it? (How can't I?) I
used to take three hundred grams and cut it (yeah) I
trafficked strapped, pistol tucked down my belt line with a
handle rubbing On my white boy shit at the
Mandalay chugging beers (yup) Brought a
chip to my town like a
Tampa Bay Buccaneer (Griselda) Niggas say they 'bout to drop but got nothing I
wanna hear Your first mistake probably was thinking I
fucking care They was out to get the
squad but look at us now, it's too late Alphabet garage, C-L-S, R-T, Q-8 "Fuck the
streets, you a
rapper," That's how my plug used to tell it to me Fell out when I
wanted a
quarter-brick and he wouldn't sell it to me (Sell it to me) Fuck 'em The
Butcher coming, nigga Dictated that I
take each course I
took No, I
didn't have multiple choice Black and ball hair And like, five hundred dollars in this place here Like five dollars worth My word to you, all the
doors were closed, that was the
only door open
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