Lyrics
I don’t hate the game, don’t even hate the player
And I don’t sing like Drake, you can thank me later
I been smokin' all day, homie, name your flavor
Now I’m feeling like a mill, funny ‘cause I’m making paper
Shit, I’m grinding, but I ain’t a skater
Flyer than an aviator
Wash my hands and dry 'em, spend a day of labor
I ain’t a baker, but tell 'em I want my cake in layers
Catch me walking on water, but I ain’t your savior
I got that wet on me; call me T. Boone Pickens
He drilled for water, when he find it that’s what we do spittin'
(What you mean?)
What I mean is what you need you get it
Stuffing profit in they pocket; that’s how we use rhythm
Webroot system, ain’t no stolen, got a renewed engine
Unless you bitches paying me
Don’t worry 'bout what we do pimpin'
Needle dicks acting like some preschool children
Got 'em fiendin', feed 'em
Now they OD’ing off me like how the needle did 'em
I don’t ball, right? What you mean you trippin'?
And what you call life, I call that thing you livin'
Swear to God, once I started you can see you finished
Power to California governor with T2's image
Swear to God when Arnold was catching bodies on the screen
2Pac was dropping knowledge on the scene
That’s not Poetic Justice, but what is is him shooting two cops
Should’ve bodied them, topple the machine!
We on citizens watch
For every unarmed civilian killed we taking two innocent cops
Fight the rules of politicians that fight to rule. They won’t listen till we
snatch their kids from their private schools
I don’t hate the game, don’t even hate the player
And I don’t sing like Drake, you can thank me later
[I been smokin' all day, homie, name your flavor
Now I’m feeling like a mill, funny ‘cause I’m making paper
I’m off that bullshit
I’m off that bullshit
I’m off that bullshit
Fuck it, now I’m back on it
They tapped my celly, ditched the phones
Glass of Henny, sippin' slow
Fuck 'em all! Clap a fed and dig a hole to fit his bones
Napa valley vintage flow with Machiavelli principles
You can’t protect me from not having any, get your own!
If I’m fronting to you bring it back, the give-and-go
Stockton pass, off the back, that’s my kid Malone
Ain’t no middle man, we get it where this shit is grown
Swear we been here so long, we should visit home
My connect gives it low, now I’m in my zone
I’m like him, when I spit I’m taking limbs from clones
More like Walt White, fuck Walt Disney!
Think it’s all hype? I’ll assault Mickey
Stomp Minnie, run up on y’all kiddies
Slip 'em all mickeys, feed 'em malt liquor, yeah, all Mickeys
Told my mom I make enough to build a small city
Promise before they take me out I’ll take 'em all with me
I don’t hate the game, don’t even hate the player
And I don’t sing like Drake, you can thank me later
[I been smokin' all day, homie, name your flavor
Now I’m feeling like a mill, funny ‘cause I’m making paper
I’m off that bullshit
I’m off that bullshit
I’m off that bullshit
Fuck it, now I’m back on it
