Ransom, Flee Lord, Rigz, Eto, Nicholas Craven - Hell or High Water lyrics

Look how We made it nigga
Amazing liquor mixed with Asian dinners
Famous spitters, 'member the losers always
Gon' blame the winners, heinous sinners
Working for nothing made you bitter
Look the boss will never
Pay you enough to be his neighbor nigga
Same agenda, that brother soft
What's his name and gender lame intender
Insane offender injure your main contender
Scared for nothing
Some niggas never really shared nothing
Here cousin
Bags on the scale just hit the tare button
Tears coming hurt niggas head on
The tears but in
Tear something, buck fifty a nigga
That's ear to ear cutting
Air something, shoot up the venue
Got all your peers ducking fear nothing
Bitch ass niggas got all
These queers blushing
I smell your fear throughout the hemisphere
I pillage your village
Save all the women and children
Make sure no men is spared
That stench is where the bullet sent
You there, we all live in this hell
So don't you get this shit twisted
Cause we got central air
Everybody is depressed in need
Some of mental care
But never been in prison when someone
You love sent you there
Yeah, god bless the brave
Stranger, displayed anger
Buried you six feet and you
Still in grave danger

My hood a max prison
With crack pitchin' and the gat spittin'
Whole family livin' off of black women
It's a fact you spat fishin'
I sit back relax twistin'
If it ain't a V12 my
Niggas laugh at that engine (Uh)
Used to microwave an eighth but now
I like to play it safe
My lordie eat with a razor like
He writin' on your face
Prayin' sheddin' tears
My mommas heaven near
Old flicks of the clique and
Them niggas never there
Flee and Ran' tappin' in see
Fam have to win
We the grand champions in the
Van packed with Jim's
All this guest-starrin'
Pull up in the best foreign
With a childhood friend that's dodgin'
All the fed warrants
Lord Mobb Flee I'm enjoying the works
I blow the sour in the sky for
All my lords in the dirt
Yo, I blow the sour in the sky
For all my lords in the dirt

I put my plight in the pen jot it
On the page then I made paper
Used to pump poison in the
Projects sellin' death to nature
Now all my projects poison Streetz
Done got his name up
Still it's fuck the police
Trump and the legislator
Still live by the code I listen
And no talk unless it's major
Not signed to majors this all independent
Still in cahoots with wild yutes that's out
Tryna rob your ring and pendant
Want it all now cause in the
Streets it ain't no pension
More concerned with the cashapp than
A fuckin' twitter mention
Got a thing for semi-automatic
Gats with clip extensions
This is razor blade rap
Spittin' with a vengeance
My life behind these bars care less
How you judge the sentence
Blowin' weed to the sky
That's a thugs repentance
Blood on the hundreds and dubs that
I stuff in my denims

Autistic - dumb smart
God gifted from jump start y'all missed it
Ask O-Dog with the young heart
Still a menace who in
Defense to feel offended
If I ever had to offer my hand
You will attend it if so
The foot soldier help the regiment grow
With no handouts
Earned his lot the veterans owe
A New York minute you only
Get a second to blow we on different time
Direct em' to the heavens below
His fear of losing is greater
Than the excitement of winning
Vice is suspension
Spent his whole life in this prison
No room to brag
Whos his dad? I can assist him
Or you could spank him
Pick poise and wisest religion uh yeah
I won't talk to you how your bitches did
But I only respect a man who made initiatives
It won't get out of hand if it did
Cause my shooters home dancin' they
Know we into this

Look, ayo, business don fees
Send em' to kill em'
Who said the Taurus cheap?
While short-minded niggas make music to
Give me long sleep
I wrote this on my off-week
Yo I sell work and stand sharp cause it's
Silence I'm spittin' shit to my heartbeat
Clause language
Through these corners where shit be dangerous
The twenty-five is sold and
Bodies made niggas famous
The industry too lame, fuck who you group
With, you thirst to group pic'
Male groupies I should give
Y'all a group name (Ha)
The smack here how I directed
I'm not to cut it
They cravin' next three-in-one shit
The shooters love it
Fuck it, I got purposeful goals
So from the fiends I must stash what I
Make and do it under your nose
Hit your moustache with it
Blood drenching his clothes
You got fears of being you
I ain't living with those
Too many frauds flash cash but
They never make it last
Cause they good with they closet having
More in it then they stash
Stupid (It's real stupid man, fuck outta here)