Skillz - Street Rules lyrics

Yeah yo this go out to everybody
Just doin what they gotta do
KnowhatI'msayin? To get that cream, knahmean?

The streets don't care who you are
And those who fake jacks son
They never get far

Yo, where I reside fake niggas run and hide
(what?) the streets be wicked
Keep that biscuit by yo' side
What the fuck? Who the next
Crew to get run amuck?
It's all real over here
On the streets you get stuck
For fakin jacks don't max cause
The block stay hot
Watch your back for the jeal' niggas
Tryin to get what you got (true)
Count your dough slow, never flash your ends
Always keep a stash spot and
Never make new friends commit your sins
(right) confess on your own time kid
Never think that you too nice
To do a fuckin bid
Don't nobody but you wanna see
You gettin bigger (uh huh)
So for every loyal nigga
(what?) it's two spoiled niggas (true)
Midnight to six cliques pullin sweet vicks
(uhh) fulfullin cream dreams
Takin niggas out the mix
Nine-pound locked down by you and yo' crew
But watch yo' back nigga
(why?) because the streets don't have to

Yo, fuck gettin high, I need high dough
And when you high all you seein
Is yo' money movin slow so scratch the itch
Don't slip and don't snitch
Leavin? C'mon, this ain't "Superfly" bitch
Ask black, the kid with the wide-body Ac'
Put a freeze on your cheese and
You're workin 'til he stack
Nuff bills to chill, sniff lines and shit
'til some niggas hit crib on some tec-9 shit
I numb gums like coke when you take a taste
You in the wrong motherfuckin place
Tryin to be Scarface
Niggas be schemin and slippin on Henny demon
Tryin to outlast the next ass
Cash got him fiendin
To rock on the wrong blocks
And don't know the tactics in God we trust
Mad deep like Sounds of Blackness
Locked in the rule of no sharin
It might seem i'm selfish but I'm for delf
I can't spend whipped cream

Break it down
The man is so hot niggas is catchin suntans
Makin plans to jam after they
Bag up this next gram
Brothers gettin laced, I caught a new case
But, if they want me
They got to kill me twice like Screwface
Excess players I got no time for rest man
Keep that dough flowin
Motherfuck owin the next man
Neighborhood villain, hoodie Glock no smile
When I see you it's gon' be
Executioner style
What nigga? Check the stee'
Yeah you know how it get
Out here some ol' Columbian blindfold shit
(true)
Dou-ble go to club chill drink holder (uhh)
Discrete down to low cabbage
Gettin street soldiers (hah)
Duckin guys 'til heads recognize the real
Lettin lead fly
But instead I maintain and chill (uh huh)
You know the deal, kids get ill don't sleep
You get your card pulled quick
Fuckin around in these streets

Yeah, you know how we do
Big shout to everybody
I ain't mad at ya, do your thing, y'knahmean?
Northside, Southside, Eastern, Western
Niggas gotta win