Stepping Out E

Steppin', cool as can be. When nothing much is shaking, And while the breaks ain't breaking, That's when the feeling takes me. Stepping out, red Cortez, I'm out the house. Double clicking like the rental know what I'm about. Hear Crenshaw and take that motherfucker down. Banging oldies, smoking dodie, check the hood up Proud. By my lonely, I can't even trust the Homies. They'll have you in a twist. Don't you know them niggas phony? Except my niggas from the jump, circle smaller than A Rollie. Face glistening on my wrist. Thought they told you life's a bitch. Only realers in my clique. All my niggas looking rich. But we done came from them times, didn't have A pot to piss. Now I pull up in That six, couple homies off the bix. Tall Dre serve on, may be yelling, "That's it." Stepping to the function, Tryna knock a nigga bitch. Ready to take some chances. You know a nigga like me all about the Chances. no backward glances. Ha. Shine up my shoes for dancing. Hundred round. Saying goodbye to Mister. In the kitchen two-stepping with the twelve gauge. I kept me two weapons since the twelfth grade. In and out the church, but was hell-raised. Bullets burn like hell when them shells graze. Fly whooping, all white five couping. Four-five on me at the Five Guys sliding through It. Black nine match the black nine-fives, How I shoot it. Five-five-nine hoes clocking, That's really how I do it. Really limping, I been turning bitches since Helly Hansen. Diamonds in the ring been hitting, Look like they belly dancing. Nah, I ain't voting, coke drought. Bagging zips up in the smokehouse. I'm tryna turn this smoke to a boathouse. All that dope, I could probably turn the Pope Out. Ready to take some chances. Steady, no backward glances. Shine up my shoes for dancing. Saying goodbye to Mister.