J.R. Writer, Fred Money - Here I Am lyrics

Woke up yawning from a sour nap
Slept for a hour and I'm proud of that
Hit my nigga Kwon, he inside the trap
Told him I'm on my way
Get the slime from Mac
Hit the shower and recite a rap
Throw on some get fresh, outie in a hour flat
Big boy mom, smelling like a sour pack
Kryptonite, ask Superman if he
Want his powers back
Around the scratch like I got a itch
In the 'jects with my scrap
And he gotta pitch
Take him across the map whenever I got a trip
Don't gotta trip
We gon be rich with a lot of chips
I'mma spit for them niggas that can't
But wish that they could
So they can ball and sit in that paint
Try to change a nigga's ways
All you get is restraint
And once you get a nigga paid
All his feelings is blanked
Real talk - I seen steel spark
Bodies on the floor, outlined real chalk
Squally knocking down doors when
Them deals talk
You ain't a pig, what you squeal for?
Shit is messy zoo, how this speci' do
Turn a close friend to a vegetable
Got my man doing time, and it's Federal
If he said he do, then I bet he do look

I got that type of raw you bubble
That'll get us all in trouble
I do it for the hood where the
Only choice is hustle
Rawest boy in the world
Come and snort a couple
I got that boy and that girl
Come and snort a couple
I was born to ball nigga
You ain't known at all
Follow protocol? Well, I'm the pro to call
When you need someone to tighten up a rookie
You gambling with your life - I'm
Surprised you ain't a bookie
Cut the foolery, cause obviously you pussy
Ain't no schooling me
You'd think the guy was playing hooky
Live-r than I should be
You looking at a spitter
Trying to see a wussy
Then look into a mirror
Nigga, I'm the answer how could
You be a killer?
Last time you had the hammer
You was putting up a picture
Talk about you got work on the block
That don't cut it - here
You must work at the shop
It ain't worth it, so stop
You really hurting the pots
I done dealt with so much bricks that
I should work on my shot
You ain't never wait in the hall
With weight in the hall
Go into a sneaker box just
To make a withdrawal
You ain't never creep the block when
They take it to war
If I ever squeeze a shot
You'll go straight to the law
So, dog, what you trying to sell?
You know Writer well
Yellow Rollie on, only time will tell
I ain't with the foolery you spitting
I took a listen - you's
A waste of studio equipment
Who got a swag excellent as me?
I should put you in a bag
You'll never be a g