Scorin - Mozzy, Lil Blood, Slim 400

That nigga told, he been rockin' wit the rollers

Chain gang slimey bitch Rocky Balboa

I be on dope bitch fell into a coma

Really from the four’s had to get it off the corner

Aunty and them smokers on the porch playing poker

Fo' nick hefty, too bulky for a holster

There’s all type’s of bitches on my Motorolla

We pulling out the corner store wit hella baking soda

Another cold summer I ain’t seen a summer colder

Gang enhancement charges when them people roll up on us

They throw the hold up on us plus they boosting up the bail

The crime rate quiet all the shooters in the cell

It’s Hell Gang bitch i’m going straight to hell

Just made it harder for yourself it ain’t no way that I could tell

It’s either a maney jumpshot or hit the NFL

We fucked his career off he got possession’s for them sales

One day i’ll be balling, yeah

I’m outside by the corner

I’m trynna get this money, yeah

I just flipped another quarter

Started off in a stolo, yeah

Now I’m sliding in a foreign

Touchdown city solo, yeah

From the bottom I’m scorin

Blood!

Started off buying plug, ten for forty

Outside me and Dirt he was carrying the 40

Linden street barkin rolled coke on the third

Trynna touch these five racks from the first to the third

Crack dreams bitch what you know bout cookin

Instagram flippin black gate we juggin'

Got whatever you need, just bring your lighter

Been out here all day and I’m pulling an all nighter

Pants dirty, black hoody I’m on a mission

Fuck these bitches, gotta get it I’m chasin chicken

Boiling water, add the soda watch it rise up

And Scrr, Scrr, Scrr, when I scrape the sides up

Nose dirty, snortin coke from all my zippers

Real pimpin, need dough from all my bitches

Nigga I was sellin coke to my own father

If I ain’t sell it to him he would buy it from my partner

Blood!

Pigs hit the block my real ones went to jail

Ain’t no money to post bail so they sittin in cells

My youngins shootin at civilians

I ain’t wit killin children

But it’s bracken blood it’s day to day

You caught at the gas station now a 40 in your face

Now who callin who phone, hut, 48

I’m the first to line up, I ain’t a second late

Slid off on some real shit

Real niggas feel this

I see you endin up in the ICU

Hitta’s know I rock wit the Hell Gang, and free my nigga Truth

It be the solid ones that go first, and the snitchin is bool

I bleed the bag for bag, misleading these hoes

Still gettin it out the gutter and it’s me and my bros

I don’t claim to be, I’m in these streets, put it on P’s

Free real niggas, so fuck you industry niggas