Jet Life, Young Roddy, Smoke DZA, Trademark Da Skydiver - Bossed Up lyrics

Real niggas coming up
Fake niggas laying down
Trademark I'm here to stay
Guaranteed you'll see me 'round
Stuntin' in some sharp
Apparrel, khaki slacks
I'm 'laxed and casual with a focused mind
I'm on a straight of narrow
I just want what's mines, that's only natural
Large estates
Cherry wood floors with marble statues
I see it in my dreams
So I know it's coming for me
Niggas tryna block my shine
Trust me I ain't worried
Back against the wall, I'm yelling
"fuck 'em all"
I came here to ball, right hand on my balls
Left hand middle fingers up cuz
I don't give a fuck you can tell from my
Attitude I'm getting bucks
Strong kush in the cones got a nigga stuck
I'm headed to the top, momma wish me luck
Haters wish I fail
Even though I will prevail
That's just how I feel
But only time will surely tell

Uh, It's a real nigga outing
So I'mma wear what I wanna wear, Right
Hustlin', I'm mad where I'm at dawg
Bitches call me when the money there
I pull up, pick up, now grip up
Uhhh, and if you hustlin'
Put your bands up, bands up
And all my real G's stand
Up and what? Riiight

And I hotbox the whip
I make it hard for her to breathe
My pound game official
Make a broad don't want leave
Got bags under my eyes from no sleep
Got cash under my bed from '03
One love to my plug
That nigga put me on my feet
It's still fuck them niggas
Tell 'em I'm rolling one deep
I ain't scared fool, whats beef?
To a cattle who lost his peeps
Us ghetto kids
Keep more than a trick up our sleeve
I ain't doing that just for me
This for my sisters and my C's
Or men thats in these streets like A-wax
I ride D's i pray they keep their face on
My niggas with disbelief
No disrespect girl, but til I'm gone it's MOB
That chopper on that front seat like fuck it
It's M-O-me
I got it out that modern Nike shoes
Now no cleats they label me a beast, "you
Better than me?" "nigga, please, "
A rebel 'til I leave, and 'til
I leave, it's J-E T, oouutt

Two years ago I was chopping O's
Now I get pound money to rock a show
The OG's like "little pappa go"
Fly to H-town just to hit Pappadeaux
I'm too popular to be normal
Die off that OG every night, fool
I'm immortal
One time for my little bro, little doobies
Just a few months and I smoke
And everything'll be gucci
Kushed God, you looking at a new breed
My NO niggas will kill for
Me like I'm Drew Breeze
Hustler, slash, author
See that a rotten apple just
Another dirty New Yorker
Show stopper, hoes jock him
Think he's awesome
Go rock 'em, big Cuban looking flawless
So tell them non-believers they
Can hold my Johnson
King of New York, nigga, Rugby Thompson