Meyhem Lauren, DJ Muggs, Roc Marciano - Ghetto Stockbroker lyrics

Live by the gun, die by it
Chrome 357 with the rubber grip
Sippin' Baileys on the rocks like Puffy
Cut the pie, ghetto stockbrokers
Cut the pie, ghetto stockbrokers (uh)
Stay fly til the day I die, that's the slogan
(Yo, Muggs, what up?)

Fuck king of New York
I wanna be king of the world
My agenda's got a different twirl
Different twist
You hear swiss ticks from my wrist
It's like fuck these other niggas
They don't even exist
Being cold in the winter
That's no longer my steez
I'm 'bout to trade this fucking ming
For like a hundred white T's
Social worker mentality, sergeant side salary
This world is insignificant
I come from the galaxy Queens
Disappear strong, reappear stronger (uh)
Pockets got fatter and my money got longer
(uh)
I look like James Stock when he played God
Juice like JQ mixed with A rods
Serious, lane switchin'
Drivin' with a purpose floatin' in a fire
But believe I'm never nervous
Henny in the thermos while we
Buildin' in the furnace
I earned this, respect the service
I'm continental live by the gun, die by it
Chrome 357 with the rubber grip
Sippin' Baileys on the rocks like Puffy
Cut the pie, ghetto stockbrokers
Cut the pie, ghetto stockbrokers (uh)
Stay fly til the day I die, that's the slogan

Street beneficiaries hard headed like a
Traditional my shit's VS I
Never like canaries
Fuck the social shit (shit)
I'm in a special zone (zone)
All that really means is that
I like to be alone
Chrome cream criminals, crack spots
Detached blocks beatdowns, bitterness
Backdowns with black Glocks
I've been through it, been flew
And been true and still do this
I'm a motherfuckin' G, nigga! Uh!
MAC-10, holdin' bills, still foldin'
(foldin')
Til they can't fold no more, my life's golden
(uh)
My ice frozen, designed?potent fly clothin'?
Each thread covering my flesh is handwoven
Known a freak abroad cop
Kicks and sneaker horde?
Servin' circles out of cheaper cloth, uh
Drink in my hand, feet in the sand
Mets fan like a cowbell man peace, beloved
Live by the gun, die by it
Chrome 357 with the rubber grip
Sippin' Baileys on the rocks like Puffy
Cut the pie, ghetto stockbrokers
Cut the pie, ghetto stockbrokers (uh)
Stay fly til the day I die, that's the slogan