Boldy James, The Alchemist - Pinto lyrics

Mafia Watelse (where we at wit' it?)
2-2-7 (Gang) let’s get it (Ugh)

Ran up a check on the outskirts
Stacks all in my insoles
Touring like a concert with them beans
I ain’t talking pintos
Base rentals in the bike lane, stayed down
I was ten toes on the 8 with my bloodline
Wuz and Nutty throwing big ‘bows (yeah)
On the east, 24 carat
Cutty throwing up big fours (Wow)
All the opps balling on a budget, fuck it
I’ma get them bricks sold
In the kitchen with the
Alchemist, cooking up, i’m in mix mode
(Boldy) wrist cold when I spin it
Up, niggas tinted up, but I’m fishbowl

Niggas tinted up, but I’m fishbowl
Keep that coke swimming in a fishbowl
This that 20
20 Pyrex vision on a lit stove (Work)
Nigga say he burnin' up the turnpike
Got me like "Which road?"
Now the Rollie bust-bust
I ain’t talking Flipmode
Said he on the 6-4, told him
"Meet me at the Citgo" on 7 and Littlefield
Pint of Hi Tech and a scrip of pills
Bitches know I got the juice
Niggas know it’s been the drill (Uh, huh)
Niggas whipping Robitussin
(What?) mixing it with Benadryl
Get a brick of blow and cut it
Hit it with the fentanyl
Baby bottle spoiled up
I ain’t talking Enfamil (At all)
If it ain’t sealed up, I’ma up-strick a deal
(Up strap) ‘Fore I had a record deal
I was really in the field (You already know)
For a little bit of nothin'
I could get a nigga spilled (Whoa)
‘Fore I had a fanbase
I was selling tan flakes rakin' in the cash
Tryna make sure that my mans straight
(My guys) now everybody breaking bags
Shook all of that dead weight
Upgraded my stash
Shaking that bag like I landscape
(Been working)
My lil’ brother SK, gotta fight a fed case
Whole lot of gang shit
And that’s without the handshakes (Ugh)
Ran up a check on the outskirts
Stacks all in my insoles
Touring like a concert with them beans
I ain’t talking pintos
Base rentals in the bike lane, stayed down
I was ten toes on the 8 with my bloodline
Wuz and Nutty throwing big ‘bows
On the east, 24 carat
Cutty throwing up big fours (Wow)
All the opps balling on a budget, fuck it
I’ma get them bricks sold
In the kitchen with the
Alchemist, cooking up, i’m in mix mode
(Boldy) wrist cold when I spin it
Up, niggas tinted up, but I’m fishbowl
(Mafia)

Playing with them Icks out in Frisco
(San Fran)
Now we up dog shit I was just on Skid Row
Marching up Baldwin
Contra moved back to Jethro
Two phones slamming
Off a Virgin Mobile and a Getro
Snatching up niggas custies
Scale kinda dusty
While y’all niggas in the county working
For the police like a trustee
Forty-three AMG, it’s Ali on the MP
Alley oop, it’s only us
But it’s really just me
Skinny nigga, 6’3", dining in at the Whitney
Dream cruising up Woodward, candy paint
’96 MB i been in the streets so long, shit
I’m dehydrated and exhausted
On them hot blocks off of Martha
Cold water running out the faucet
Finna make it through the bullfrog
Shit could take or it could fall
I can press play, i can push pause with that
Mini-Drac’ and that bulldog
Traffic in the tri-state
Love a bad bitch with a pie-face
Now them hundreds stuck
Together like flypape'