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Bastards

Album: Pressure Durasi: 2:13

Momma raised a gangster, daddy wasn't there

Grandfather taught me how to work and make it out of here

The streets taught me how to be cold and don't care

And the country taught me how to hold my head with no fear

They better start shootin' if they think that they gonna stop me

Pop smoke or Tupac me

I don't rock with bodyguards, I'm too cocky

Two glockys and this shotty knock your top off, you copy?

And all these white boys jockin' me while they copy

Look, I'm mayonnaise, white as fuck too

Throwing hand grenades out the side of my truck like, "Fuck you!"

Can't you get your own style, own look?

Or you just going to be a clone and take everything out my whole book?

Just my presence is a blessin', you peasants need to invest in heavy weapons

Instead of studio sessions

Yeah, I hear you rappin', but I don't see progression

My resume's impressive, every second is perfection

Momma raised a gangster, daddy wasn't there

Grandfather taught me how to work and make it out of here

The streets taught me how to be cold and don't care

And the country taught me how to hold my head with no fear

Momma raised a gangster

Momma raised a gangster

Momma raised a gangster

Momma raised a gangster

Knocking down the door with the street sweeper

This thing I got in my hand is a meat cleaver

You can get shot or cut in half

I'm cutting out a path with a chainsaw and a weeder

I know you don't think they fuckin' with me! Me either

I'm ballin' like I'm MJ

Ridin' 'til the tires bald, the gas tank empty

Got another thing coming you think I'm friendly

I'm a giant like I'm 10 feet, you dyin' if you tempt me

Motherfucker I'm sayin', "Dyin' if you tempt me"

Ay, what the fuck is wrong with them?

You ass like a thong in 'em

Durags, saggy pants don't mean you rap, killin' all of 'em

They fallin' like it's Autumn, time for you to call an audible

I rap about way more than broads and expensive automobiles

Momma raised a gangster, daddy wasn't there

Grandfather taught me how to work and make it out of here

The streets taught me how to be cold and don't care

And the country taught me how to hold my head with no fear

Momma raised a gangster

Momma raised a gangster

Momma raised a gangster

Momma raised a gangster