Maxo Kream, Joey Bada$$ - 1998 lyrics

Yeah! How you feel?
Great! You feel alright?

Wake up early, trapping late
Serving niggas by the gates
Shooting dice, I let 'em skate
Six and eight, they running mates
Getting money I'ma Baghdad
These bitches, they Kuwait
Gave my workers four pounds
Told 'em bring me 98
Matching Fubu with the Bape
That was back in '98
20 dollars for the drank
That was back in '98
Starchy jeans and Screw Tapes
That was back in '98
Got a hundred round drum
Hit your ass with 98

Blowing O Dogs like Larenz Tate
Running your mouth like Crest Colgate
Run in your house, if I want I'm a take
Take everything but the sink and fishtank
My dick ain't free, I'ma make a bitch pay
Shoot a nigga up with the Mac 90k
Nintendo 64, we don't play 2k
Prank call phone, Motorola two-ways
25 lighters, got a pocket full of stone
Don't call my phone if you not a yellow-bone
I'm an H-town nigga, so I need extra dome
Keep a deuce of the screw, double cup
Styrofoam drop a lot of Molly 'cause I
Get it by the key
For the sherm heads, got the PCP
My boys go pop, I ain't talkin' Backstreet
My guns go pop and the bullets in sync
Stay comin' down, always Po'd up
Blowing Orange OJ, oh say Bronc-o
Drop a four with a bar in a p soda
Jamming on a grey tape, got me screwed up
Round '98, I was seven 7 or 8
Bad then a bitch I was in the second grade
Had a southside fade with four ways
Running outside fucking up my new J's
Right around the same time
I done sold my first bike
Sitting on the porch chillin'
In the front yard
Go hard or go home, everyday had to fight
Whoop a nigga ass for some Pokemon cards
WWF x PAC went hard
Running round school telling my
Teacher to suck it
Momma used to whoop my ass real hard
Act a damn fool when I'm out in public

Wake up early, trapping late
Serving niggas by the gates
Shooting dice, I let 'em skate
Six and eight, they running mates
Getting money I'ma Baghdad
These bitches, they Kuwait
Gave my workers four pounds
Told 'em bring me 98
Matching Fubu with the Bape
That was back in '98
20 dollars for the drank
That was back in '98
Starchy jeans and Screw Tapes
That was back in '98
Got a hundred round drum
Hit your ass with 98

Off a bad cop, and his rag top
Fuck a good cop, I've never met one
Stay tipsy like J-Kwon
Make the hood hop, I drop napalms
Stay calm I drop 8 bombs
But you feel that thump when that bass goin'
Every past sales we face thump, get so high
Nigga face numb
My time money, never waste none
Shine coming, don't get sonned
The stakes is high, I got three supplies
Grill motherfucker till he well done
Get deep Fried, they sat Louis
Know my nigga Lex stay with the toolie
Flip a nigga ta rantualas
Turn rat niggas to ratatouille
Crooklyn nigga, know I had to do it
New York back, you know I had to prove it
Money is my slang, nigga
Y'all niggas don't speak it fluent
Fact y'all niggas can't speak at all
One more word I'ma fucking lose it
Got a king size bed, don't sleep at all
So when your queen give it up
Get the pussy bruised
Uh, her mouth stays glued to
My dick and balls
I bust her jaw, until it hit the door
But don't trip nigga, it's still yours
Soon as I get to score
That's when you get the call
It's like a chain reaction, you fuck up
She back for more

Wake up early, trapping late
Serving niggas by the gates
Shooting dice, I let 'em skate
Six and eight, they running mates
Getting money I'ma Baghdad
These bitches, they Kuwait
Gave my workers four pounds
Told 'em bring me 98
Matching Fubu with the Bape
That was back in '98
20 dollars for the drank
That was back in '98
Starchy jeans and Screw Tapes
That was back in '98
Got a hundred round drum
Hit your ass with 98