f/ Cosmo, Killa Tay

[ VERSE 1: JT The Bigga Figga ]
We play hardball, runnin these streets in different routes

Make the paper count, stuffed in the couch, we got clout
All I talk about is cheddar-chasin, we in the Jets
In a parking lot in a bubble goose rockin a vest
So we mean-muggin, whole trunk full of goodies
Burner gloves, Timbos, Levis and the hoodies
I'm in and out of B-210, juice & gin
Crack the window when you smokin them bidi's, pass the Hen
Overdrive in the passenger side, my niggas ride
For the westside, 415, ????
By the look in his eyes, you never been around the block though
Bustin off rounds or crack dealin to keep it hot tough
Dancin with the shift, get skirtin, illegal motion
Stoppin for the cops and it's curtains, so keep coastin
When they dust for prints ain't no punks in this
And if they ever bring the drama get the pumps for this

[ CHORUS: Cosmo ]
We ain't got shit to lose but much to gain
We young thugs who done felt much pain
Drug dealers who touched caine
Stuck in the game like 'fuck fame'
Makin weak cats tuck they chains
Ain't nothin changed

[ VERSE 2: Killa Tay ]
I serve a punk quick like Serena and Venus
Foul language, broken English, but my style's the cleanest
I was born on the East but I reside on the West
Officially Supernatural, so I ride to the death
Express my plans to my