Smoke DZA, Nym Lo, Benny the Butcher - Ramadan lyrics

183rd street

(Lawd)
Parked the spaceship in front of mama's fry
(G shit)
We was taught to squeeze 'til the drama die
(Brrt)
Homie, don't be the reason that your mama cry
(Please don't)
Heard they put her son down like Ramadan
(Niggas gettin' tried left and right, homie)
Then they wonder why the
Streets left us traumatized
(Shit ain't no game, nigga)
Traumatized (Uh) , traumatized

I got a budget just to keep
New Dior in my closet (Right)
New handheld pistols on my
Niggas like wallets
Big business, so you know
It's a bigger deposit
High-tech money machinеs to speed
Up the process (Uh)
I don't explain thе process to novices
What's the object?
Hand full of bud in a bag, off the optics
Uh, they hate to see me livin' my life
Them "back-in-the days"-stories still ain't
Changing the price
Don't get caught up in position and power
For the hour
Niggas get to cappin' 'bout smoke
I light the loud up
I got niggas rich, you got niggas clipped
Embarrassed, investigated, all types of shit
I underestimated the scripts, the hyphenate
(Uh)
You started off 30's and ended with Vicodins
Worst thing you could do with a
Drug is light the shit
The ratio from dealer to user is heightening
Your life'll end

Parked the spaceship in front of mama's fry
(G shit)
We was taught to squeeze 'til the drama die
(Brrt)
Homie, don't be the reason that your mama cry
(Please don't)
Heard they put her son down like Ramadan
(Niggas gettin' tried left and right, homie)
Then they wonder why the
Streets left us traumatized
(Shit ain't no game, nigga)
Traumatized, traumatized

It's all good 'til rules get broke
And crews get smoked
It's crazy when you get rich
Off the truth you smoke
And them niggas that you fuck with only poof
You broke got really fool parole, had to
Trap on cruise control, yeah
Uh, you know I hit
The interstate scorin' 'caine quarter thing
Before I left I got a oil change
Park the 63 where your bitch stay
When you this straight
The pussy always free, but the bricks ain't
But my wrist great
Yeah, my only jackpot was a crackpot
They say I used to be a hustler, shit
When that stop?
My new customers ask me when that drop
It's still fifty racks dropped
Just to wack opps when I was younger I just
Wanted to be a fireman
I grew up fast, buying yams, supplying grams
Your favorite rapper in my diet plan
I kept it gangsta, my choices was live a rat
Or die a man

Parked the spaceship in front of mama's fry
(G shit)
We was taught to squeeze 'til the drama die
(Brrt)
Homie, don't be the reason that your mama cry
(Please don't)
Heard they put her son down like Ramadan
(Niggas gettin' tried left and right, homie)
Then they wonder why the
Streets left us traumatized
(Shit ain't no game, nigga)
Traumatized (Uh) , traumatized

If we talkin' hustlers, I'm ahead of them all
(Facts) and if we talkin' rap niggas
I'm beheadin' 'em all (Uh)
I did it all just to ball
But was never incarce'
'Cause a fish with it's mouth
Closed could never get caught, uh
I slide through the trenches with
This 40 on my hip deuce-deuces in the purse
A lil' shawty in my whip (Got that)
I slip through mo' towns than
Berry Gordy with the bricks i got rich, kid
Guess I'm Tory with the bricks
If I call my body-droppers they
Gon' shotty shot 'em
Catch you in your buildin'
Get your lobbies rockin'
Spin the block and tell 'em hop in (Hop in)
Then we skrt on them niggas like, "damn
They killed 'em" (Skrrt)
Witness said they fled just
Like some pilgrims always on the guild then
We always been them niggas and we still them
I step outside the Hilton, they film him
Hop into some plush shit
With stashboxes built in
And tablets for the children
And panoramic ceilings

(Lawd)
Parked the spaceship in front of mama's fry
(G shit)
We was taught to squeeze 'til the drama die
(Brrt)
Homie, don't be the reason that your mama cry
(Please don't)
Heard they put her son down like Ramadan
(Niggas gettin' tried left and right, homie)
Then they wonder why the
Streets left us traumatized
(Shit ain't no game, nigga)
Traumatized (Uh) , traumatized