Youngs Teflon Hustlers Don't Die (Pt. 6)
[Verse]
Like... Listen to a G's tale
About nights when we was breaking down B sales
It's all in the fingertips take detail
And if it ain't a nitty ring then they just get V-mails
Plain clothes pigs clocking IC3 males
Just try and know, I ain't tryna see jail
But the spesh fully loaded with them seashells
Send the corn instant like email
Might star you for chatting all that Yahoo
Slugs pass tru' your side you can Google that
Remember my OG used to let the Ruger slap
Back when niggas used to rock doo doo plaits
Still I spit it for my G's with a nappy head
Got flour then we learnt how to stack the bread
Like "phone me later babe I gotta wack a zed"
My don love the spinner but me I'm a matic head
Flash bang no Kinder just surprise
But you can be dead from a biscuit that was live
Letting off the star, twinkle twinkle in your eyes
I came from a town where the skinny niggas ride
Nah hustlers don't die, they get chubby
Getting food out in country, then move out to country
I got a great memory this dude tried to bun me
But he don't remember me so when I see him I'm comfy
I got dons who would die just for me to be alive
But I do it myself, call it D.I.Y. G
Don't bother me cah' I'm just getting by
I was feeling kinda low but now I'm kinda high
Tell me what is all the hype? I don't really understand
You do it cah' they gassed you, I do it cah' i can
Now you know how it goes, shoot 'em up bang bang
Looking at these young bucks like I'm through with all the gangs
Damn, but niggas in and out the box like Jack but no fun
Fresh out on license, new pack, let's get it on
I need a flight outta space so book me in as Youngs
Gucci frames on when I look up at the sun
