Skilla Baby - The Pape lyrics

Huh? Niggas actin' like this shit ain't
'bout the money or somethin' (MIA JAY C)
Huh? Ayy

If I don't know nothin'
I know how to make a 'bow flip
I ain't gon' lie
Enough pape'll get a nigga ho hit
Pandemic money gone, niggas doin' ho shit
We don't never do no drive-bys
We do door kicks
Every day I wake up, get up
Grind like I want ten
You would never see me judge a
Man like I don't sin
Swimmin' in the deep end, so I tote fin
If it's business, I'm VLONE
Ain't got no friends
Sold so many three-fives before I
Came the dope man
Auntie don't fuck with cocaine
She a blow fan
Unc' on the other hand, that nigga a snowman
Been stopped sellin' work
Still got it on hand bankroll so big
I had to hold it up with both hands
They wonder why the rappers wanna
Hang with the dope man
He don't know my life if
He don't sell Lindsay Lohan
I been out here on my own ten
I'm a grown man i always check my back door
It be your own mans
Everybody out here got a price
I don't want friends
My plug put that one shit
On the floor, I'm like, "I want in"
Every day
I try to make ten bands before I go in
(Huh?)

Huh you gotta know that
Niggas act like this shit ain't
'bout the money or somethin'
Huh, run that motherfuckin' money up
Huh? (Huh?) that's what you gotta know

That's what you gotta know
The plug hit me with that one shit, I'm like
"Geronimo"
Everybody knew I was gon' sell dope
Even my mama know
My fiends said they wanna see food
I'm like Pappadeaux
In the kitchen choppin' those
All my guns come with drums
I do rock and roll
They say Skilla on fire, stop, drop, and roll
My hoes be poppin' hoes
My bros'll pop your bros
Nigga soft as cotton rolls
My mama'll beat your mama ass
And if your mama touch my mama
I'ma beat your mama ass
I don't do less than one-fifty
It's two hundred on the dash
Chop a nigga hand off
I catch him reachin' in my stash
Last year, I made two-fifty, I don't brag
Seven hundred horsepower
Who that nigga on that neck?
I fell off a lil' bit, but this year
I'm back in my bag back to makin' niggas mad
I think a lot of niggas fags
A lot of bitches wanna shag
I got good sense, but ain't got GoodSense
Glad bag young nigga, grown money
I look up to myself, I got my own money
PUA done, all my niggas gettin' phone money
Short temper, long money
Last year, you niggas was road runners
The last thing I wanna hear is
"Let me hold somethin'"
Brodie in the pen', he'll poke somethin'
Skilla on the show, they know the GOAT comin'
Your bitch comin' over
I know that throat comin'
Every day, I text my plug, "I need work
Let me know somethin'"
Last year, I made two-fifty, this year
I'm makin' four somethin'
I'm tryna get some pape'
Please don't call me if
You don't want nothin'
It's all about the Benjamins
Huh, fuck niggas, get money
That's my temperament
Ten on me every time I hit a bitch

No cap, nigga
We gon' start the year off right
New year, new pape' on God
Huh?