LYRICS:

It’s real talk

Aye this for all my niggaz in the struggle

This is that shit that keeps them bouncing up and down the Avenue

All of my gangsters hustlers pimps and players and I ain’t mad at you

Gotta get that dough you better act like you know

Smoking on some of that sticky icky

Come along get this money with me

The boy that the world wouldn’t love Turn into a man not giving a fuck

I started rolling with thugs gang niggaz and mobsters

From eating noodle packs to steaks and lobsters

From sleeping on the block with no support

To a view of the whole bay area right from my porch

Spark up the torch light the cigar

Riding dirty in a mobby with a whole lot of heart

Take a look in my eyes I ain’t no punk

What you know about riding around with the keys in the trunk

Getting money out of town can you catch some funk

Call the Homie Scott Free with the extra pump

I stand out in the crowd I get in your head

Talking shit ‘cause a closed mouth don’t get fed

But the game is so sick when I spit

I had a dime piece cop a whole studio just for me to blow up with

This is that shit that keeps them bouncing up and down the Avenue

All of my gangsters hustlers pimps and players and I ain’t mad at you

Gotta get that dough you better act like you know

Smoking on some of that sticky icky

Come along get this money with me

Treat every day like the last my foot on the gas

The crack pipes on the concrete is all in the past

I remember when nobody didn’t feel my hits

Now I’m making power moves with this hip-hop shit

It’s official like a gangster with a pistol

A referee whistle Fa shizzle my nizzle

Keep my head on a swivel swol up like a vet

Like my homey top dog from the schoolyard set

Trying to teach the YG’s to stand firm

Respect is not given it’s earned Lil nigga now wait your turn

You gotta stand in line if you trying to blow homie

I got the game from the hustlers straight from the O

With my mug on mean ‘cause ain’t nothing sweet

Have money have heart keep your ear to the street

I’m smoother than water crumbling herb

Ghetto reporter coming to you live straight from the curb

This is that shit that keeps them bouncing up and down the Avenue

All of my gangsters hustlers pimps and players and I ain’t mad at you

Gotta get that dough you better act like you know

Smoking on some of that sticky icky

Come along get this money with me