gilmore's

Lyrics

yea, whoooooooooooooooooo, you niggas know what time it is, its time for that gangsta shit, we aint got shit to live for, your either headed for the pen or your on your way to gilmore, in the middle of the real war, cause a five dollar bill is the shit niggas kill for, i make million out yeah, i dont care about a muthaphuka out there, my heart cold and my wrist rock, you could fuck around and die over hip hop, i treat a dollar like a mill, countin every bill, cuz if i dont watch mine another muthaphuka will, i went double but i still tuck the steel, im the truth, why the fuck you think 50 cut the deal, rollin in a bag of d when you cut the seal, when i bling the paint job on a coupe de ville, i aint never had a pop. poppa never had a son, nobody to go get, so i aint never run, they chat behind my back but they quiet when i come, they treat a lil nigga like a giant with a gun, i walk with a swagger like i always had money, cuz i know, they rather see my black ass bummy, aint nuthin funny just a whole lotta anger, mind of a leader, drama of a gangbanger, if a nigga come on property i aint gonna call, there'll be a splatter on ya shirt, and it aint paintball, we aint got shit to live for, your either headed for the pen or your on your way to gilmore, in the middle of the real war, cause a five dollar bill is the shit niggas kill for, i make million out yeah, i dont care about a muthaphuka out there, my heart cold and my wrist rock, you could fuck around and die over hip hop, i dont follow no rules im gettin in here with the town, and if i dont, we gonn' burn this muthaphuka down, im comin thru swingin like they do in h-town, and i roll down the window and spin ya bitch face around, im a stunna, hoggin up the lane like the hummer, till the wheel run dry like the rain in the summer, even the broke nigga cant afford to go to sleep, fuck around and get ya head popped all over the street, and i aint got nuthin for em but the heat, my lil brother want jewelry and jordans on his feet, now, they recognize if ya slaughterin the beat, and if it wasnt for rappin, i'd have ya daughter on the street, i been the same since kane and slick rick had it, now niggas die in the car, my whole whip had it, i worked too hard to let a nigga have it, so i pack the automatic for the sideline static, yea!, we aint got shit to live for, your either headed for the pen or your on your way to gilmore, in the middle of the real war, cause a five dollar bill is the shit niggas kill for, i make million out yeah, i dont care about a muthaphuka out there, my heart cold and my wrist rock, you could fuck around and die over hip hop