We Got Chu E

Yeah. Yo, we blowing this motherfucking OG down right now. Onyx, Planet Asia. You know how we do. It's for the culture. This is for that real hip hop, uh, we Got you. For all my killers on Keith Block, Uh, we got you. For all the kids playing The block, uh, we got you. We got you. Yeah, yeah, yeah, y-yeah, Yeah. This is for that real hip hop, uh, We got you. For all my killers on Keith Block, uh, we got you. For all the kids playing the block, uh, we Got you. We got you. We got you. I move with move shakers, you move with the Move fakers. Uh-huh. Just copped the crib and moved to acres. Uh-huh. So who's next to test this? I could attest this. Just got a text from My connect from Texas. Woo. My tech is fully automatic, it's automatic. Uh-huh. I got a disorder, I'm sorta fanatic for Nice whips, nice chicks, Nike kick size nine and A half, the nine in the stash. Let's I used to use the nine and the MAC to go stick shit up. Go stick what up? Now we got cash, they Wanna stick us up. Just copped the new truck, All these new bucks. Shooting in the hood got 'em bringing out the news trucks. Yellow tape, white niggas yelling, Hate." Just got the twenty-inch rims with yellow brakes. Accelerating, fuck celebrating. All my niggas in the cell waiting, come home, Find hell waiting. This is for that real hip Hop, uh, we got you. Woo. For all my killers on Keith Block, uh, We got you. For all the kids playing the Block, uh, we got you. We got you. Yeah, yeah, yeah, y-yeah, Yeah. This is for that real hip hop, uh, We got you. For all my killers on Keith Block, uh, we got you. For all the kids playing the block, uh, we Got you. We got you. We got you. Oh, this that street shit. Let me, let me, let me talk that street Shit. Oh, this that street shit. Let me, let me, let me talk that street Shit. Yeah, it's either drug money or niggas Pimping. Niggas doing stick ups or bitches Stripping. Anything to put some food up inside the Kitchen. This that hood shit, do anything outside of Snitching. Chop it up, nigga, box it up. 'Fore that bread leave you over easy, chop it Up. They lock me up 'cause you got beat Up. Niggas ain't thugging, nope, must not be us. Who up in here? Who the fuck you fronting For? I had his whole bitch running for the Fucking door. You want a problem, you fucking with The right one. Sound like thunder, but it feel Like lightning. Ayo, my gun got the hiccups. Brrt, brrt. Don't get your face plastered. All against the wall, literally, that's a stickup. Onyx up in the spot, mad faces throwing blicks Up. Stop you out quick, don't get mixed up In this bitch. Pistol whip, thrown in the ditch. Take my advice, turn around and go back home To your bitch. What This is underworld rap, Where yellow spine niggas never make it back. For punk faking, faking jacks. That's a old school term, but some shit never Changes, like getting money and square niggas never Learning. We back in the whip, forty-six cities with Them Queens niggas wilding out, retarded as it can Get. Catch me with the Poor Righteous and Rich. Shining, keeping game face for dirty divine evils That eagle trip. Soy boy shit we will not Do. Depend on us for the grimy shit, nigga, We got you. This is for that real hip Hop, uh, we got you. Woo. For all my killers on Keith Block, uh, We got you. For all the kids playing the Block, uh, we got you. We got you. Yeah, yeah, yeah, y-yeah, Yeah. This is for that real hip hop, uh, We got you. For all my killers on Keith Block, uh, we got you. For all the kids playing the block, uh, we Got you. We got you. We got you.