S.D.L.N.
(专辑: No One Mourns The Wicked - 2020)
Yeah Streets don't love nobody, nigga Extendo and a
MAC, facts, I'ma air it out (Brr) Nigga walk in like he tough, he getting carried out Never cared for clout, the
money is all I
care about (That's all) You can keep the
fame, to me, the
money is paramount Used to put a
bowl on the
digiscale, then tear it out (Weigh up) Put a
twenty piece on your head, that's a
fair amount (Hah) Gold on me like I'm a
Pharaoh, pull the
Camaro out (Vroom) Gun on my seat that'll bust faster than Eric Crouch (Hahaha) We got rich off selling work, I
was there, I
could tell you (I was there, nigga) My homie didn't stack his paper and there was his failure (He fucked up) Police raid the
spot, barely find paraphernalia (They ain't find shit) Used to get the
bricks from a
Arabic tailor He sell suits, but if you wanted a
square, he can sell you (Cap) Young niggas selling dope 'cause America failed us (Facts) I
know it's wrong, but a
hundred thousand can make it right (Uh huh) I'm serious about this bag, I
ain't gon' take your life, Machine Yeah, this shit is real in the
field, nigga The
streets don't love nobody (Yeah, that's a
fact, nigga) The
streets don't love nobody (It don't matter who you is, nigga) It don't matter what you selling (Uh), it don't matter what you do (Nah) It don't matter how much bread (Uh), it don't matter who you shoot The
streets don't love nobody (Yeah, talk to 'em, yeah, uh) The
streets don't love nobody (Uh) Two thousand for my kicks, you can't afford 'em (Not at all) You niggas be talking money, but I'm making more (Bum ass nigga) In the
hood, the
love ain't genuine, but the
hate is pure We put more than six shots in you, that mean he making sure (Facts) Uh, making sure the
job is complete (Uh huh) I'm at the
top of the
totem pole, I'm out of your reach (Cap) Pocket rocket in my pocket for beef Your reputation is obsolete, I
will pop anybody to sleep (Fuck who you is, nigga) Fuck who you is, nigga, I
was outside, I
was there in the
trenches (Cap) One of the
homies locked, fifteen years was the
sentence (Free the
brodie) He was a
good kid, but somewhere it went different (Uh huh) Probably after they shot his cousin like Harold in Menace (Damn) Shit, this shit is real in the
field, nigga The
streets don't love nobody (Yeah, that's a
fact, nigga) The
streets don't love nobody (It don't matter who you is, nigga) It don't matter what you selling (Uh), it don't matter what you do (Nah) It don't matter how much bread (Uh), it don't matter who you shoot The
streets don't love nobody (Yeah, talk to 'em, yeah, uh) The
streets don't love nobody This shit fucked up I
had to tell the
homie though The
streets don't love nobody, nigga For real, Machine, bitch