Be Cool, Pt. 3

MikeMadeThe808s
Cookie Money
Be cool, I’m with some niggas that’s gon' pop somethin'
Hit him up, got me feelin' like I’m Pac’s son
I ain’t playin' with these niggas, I’m gon' drop one
I’m an alphabet boy, I’m from East Oakland
Everybody from my hood keep that Glock tucked
Better let yourself known before you walk up
Niggas mad we on a roll and they can’t stop us
Thirty shots out that strap’ll make him lock up
Be cool, I got some niggas that’s gon' murk somethin'
And they gon' do it off the love, they don’t want no money
I’m buyin' bottles at the club with this dope money
I put some Forgis on the Benz with that ho money
I been ballin' since 14, I don’t show money
How these niggas catchin' bodies ain’t got no money?
If you holdin' it in your hands, it ain’t no real money
Call these niggas brother man, ain’t got no bill money
Bitch, you eatin' at Martin house, ain’t got no meal money
These bitches on they mama couch, ain’t got no heel money
I speak the real, you can take it how you want from me
If it’s love, you get anything you want from me
If it’s hate, I got a chopper with a drum on it
Fifty shots in this Glock, got a button on it
Y’all don’t share the same opps, y’all ain’t real homies
I’m with my niggas from the block that’s gon' kill for me
Be cool, I’m with some niggas that’s gon' pop somethin'
Hit him up, got me feelin' like I’m Pac’s son
I ain’t playin' with these niggas, I’m gon' drop one
I’m an alphabet boy, I’m from East Oakland
Everybody from my hood keep that Glock tucked
Better let yourself known before you walk up
Niggas mad we on a roll and they can’t stop us
Thirty shots out that strap’ll make him lock up
Demons on my back, I’m just tryna get 'em off me
Used to be an addict, I was addicted to them robberies
Karma is a bitch so that hammer on the side of me
Only fuck with bitches that’ll kill, steal, and lie for me
Partner in that cell, it’s almost time to bring him home
7 years behind that wall, kept it solid, never told
There’s some niggas in my section that’ll strip you out your clothes
Put a bullet in your head 'cause they heart already froze
Better be cool, you don’t really want these issues
A hundred out the chopper make it very hard to miss you
RIP Ant, he got killed clutchin' the pistol
Bro, these streets show no love, eventually, they’ll get you
Ain’t no bullshit, on mama, shit be real weird
We from Oakland and the murder rates is real here
Be cool if you don’t wanna get your head bust
Losin' niggas in that field got us fed up
Be cool, I’m with some niggas that’s gon' pop somethin'
Hit him up, got me feelin' like I’m Pac’s son
I ain’t playin' with these niggas, I’m gon' drop one
I’m an alphabet boy, I’m from East Oakland
Everybody from my hood keep that Glock tucked
Better let yourself known before you walk up
Niggas mad we on a roll and they can’t stop us
Thirty shots out that strap’ll make him lock up