Yeah, here's to all we doin's winnin'
New beginnings, (yup) all we doin's winnin'
What's good, Cliffy? (Aye)
O-Rig, y'all snapped on this one, boy-ee! (Yes, sir)
Here's to new beginnings
Here's to, all we doin's winnin'
Here's from here on out
The minimum is 22's s-spinnin'
Here's to, no more life of sinnin'
Here's to lovin' life we livin'
Here's to no more strugglin'
Hustlin' bags of white, you sniffin'
Here's to number one
Here's to all we've overcome
Here's to six figures, for a show
And doin' summer runs
Here's to reminiscin' when
Ridin' 'round, as just a kid
To "The End", by Three-Six
Hopin' the beat would never end
Oh, you thought that, that's the end?
Yeah, baby, I'm just gettin' started
Eyes, locked on the target
While I'm reachin' in my glove compartment
Love the art, but not the business
Artists move like politicians
Black ball you, then come back 'round
When you the hottest artist spittin'
(God forgive 'em)
God forgive me, too, for choosin' not forgivin'
Those who sin against me
Like my sin's some better kinda sinnin'
No more grudges, no more crutches
Burn the past up, like some dutches
Here's to gold, to everything he touches
Hands up to the sky!
DJ, turn the volume up!
If it can go up any higher, it ain't loud enough!
We ridin', 'til these truck tires comin' off the lugs!
We good in every 'hood!
Baby, like the mafia!
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah!
Hands up to the sky!
DJ, turn the volume up!
If it can go up any higher, it ain't loud enough!
We ridin', 'til these truck tires, comin' off the lugs!
We good in every hood!
Baby, like the mafia!
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah!
Here's to payin' dues
Lord knows, I done paid a few
But never pay for views
'Cause when you do, you pay to lose
Pay attention to this game
And you could get paid, if you use it
Or hit snooze, and sleep on what I'm sayin'
Be broke and confused
Ain't got time to walk you through it
Either grind, or that's on you
We makin' moves over here, dawg
No time for puppy food
I'm another kind of dude
I'm not what ya'll accustomed to
I think outside the box, then walk it out
Like wearin' custom shoes
I'm a monster, case you didn't know
So I'd be careful what direction
That you're pointin' in, like pigeon toe
(G-get it, bro?)
Pro'ly not, 'cause most the time I jot
Lyrics, that'll tie a knot in ya' brain
Like, people crying out for pain
Somebody stoppin' me is not an option, homie
Keep at least one Glock up on me
Streets are watchin', so I'd watch it, homie
(W-watch it, homie)
I ain't talkin' math
But I'm a problem, homie
Better have my math
Or you gon' find out how I solve 'em, homie
Hands up to the sky!
DJ, turn the volume up!
If it can go up any higher, it ain't loud enough!
We ridin', 'til these truck tires comin' off the lugs!
We good in every 'hood!
Baby, like the mafia!
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah!
Hands up to the sky!
DJ, turn the volume up!
If it can go up any higher, it ain't loud enough!
We ridin', 'til these truck tires comin' off the lugs!
We good in every hood!
Baby, like the mafia!
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah!