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• Artiste: Ransom.
• Titre: Offerings
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Yeah Grew up in [?] number one ground hog All I got is clucks and junkyards in my call logs All these bitches dick-suckin' All these niggas ball hoggin' We get money All winter, spring, summer, fall, autumn Jumpin' out the Don Fresher than some Palmolive Got your wife comin' home smellin' like a popped condom Barkin' like a dog named Rover with the bow-wow (Yeah) Rubberband stacks couple few-hundred thou-wow I done made a million in these streets, my run legendary (Yes) First comes your safety then the corner comes secondary Y'all don't need these ten crack commandments, that was said already (Nah) Think you big, don't you? Well, you can fit in any cemetery I done been in every situation you can muster up (Every one) We don't make adjustments to these niggas that adjust to us (Never) Niggas in a jam, my white friends call it cluster fuck While sitting in that van I yell "Bet you won't uncuff these cuffs" Y'all niggas rap generic shit, nigga, when it's up, it's stuck Never had the Feds knocking while looking for the stuff to flush How these niggas making out? (How) He never gave his OG a date Well, that's the kiss of death, tell that nigga, "Pucker up" (Mwah) You like Escobar in your hood? Okay, enough's enough (Nah) You the type I'd punch all in your chest until you toughen up (Toughen up) Your wife wanna pout about her bag, I tell her suck it up (Suck that up) There's too many weirdos in this world and not enough of us Grew up in [?] number one ground hog All I got is clucks and junkyards in my call logs All these bitches dick-suckin' All these niggas ball hoggin' We get money All winter, spring, summer, fall, autumn Jumpin' out the Don Fresher than some Palmolive Got your wife comin' home smellin' like a popped condom Barkin' like a dog named Rover with the bow-wow (Yeah) Rubberband stacks couple few-hundred thou-wow They know I'm from Hell Block, n***** strictly mild sauce Playin' with that food, I turn your kitchen to the chow hall Spot smell like pine cone, Hi-Tech and Pine-Sol Cowboy, no rhinestone, bounce back like round ball Babysat bricks of limestone without no childcare Town hall scermin' while I'm burnin' up the town square Playin' with that sack, I get you laid out like a lawn chair Catch a case on my behalf, we scrapin' up that bond fare Put on for my hood, I know they love the way I carry it All my money off the books, they call me the librarian Caught a couple Darryl Strawberry's crossin' Ludington Blood been locked in the library, he been studyin' Touchin' duffies like a bag boy, we be dufflin' Chasin' big bank, blazin' dank while we hustlin' Sippin' good drink in the Wraith off of Sunderland My pape' talk for me, I don't do a lot of mumblin' Grew up in [?] number one ground hog All I got is clucks and junkyards in my call logs All these bitches dick-suckin' All these niggas ball hoggin' We get money All winter, spring, summer, fall, autumn Jumpin' out the Don Fresher than some Palmolive Got your wife comin' home smellin' like a popped condom Barkin' like a dog named Rover with the bow-wow (Yeah) Rubberband stacks couple few-hundred thou-wow