Yep Yep

How many styles have I got? I’mma just say «A lot»
How many niggas have I shot? Fuck is you a cop?
And where I’m from? I’m from where ever the fuck I’m at
See niggas respect Saigon all over the map
I done lived in Brownsville, lived in the Val'
Love with eastside nigga, G.I.'s hold me down
I’m good in South Central, wherever I go
I got more shooters in the Chi' than niggas that’s from Chicago
No I ain’t Hollywood, I’m in the hood bitch
I ain’t Baby or Manny Fresh but I’m Hood Rich
I got enough to get me some good shit
And laugh at you when you come around with them wood chip
A lot of haters like «Sai, why you ain’t blow up yet?»
I’m like, «Nigga you 35, why you ain’t grow up yet?»
In the club spending rent money on Moet
Knowing good and well yo' ass gon' be in more debt
Yep yep
Tonight a gun fight go down
Yep yep
So light it up and let the blunt go 'round
Yep yep
Somebody ass gon' get beat down
Yep yep
Now
Yep Yep
Oww
Yep Yep
Y’all don’t know about this life I’m into
Won’t even slap you, get beat down by Laquinta
Before I chill you could squeeze blood outta rap
Give you your girl back cause she squeeze nut out my…
Lizzy this, Lizzy that, «Heard the Inmates broke up.»
Watch your mouth homeboy, you’ll get poked up
This ain’t just rap, whole fam is tatted up
We don’t play baseball, but you’ll get batted up
Nigga boo me, shit God better bless
Hop off stage and knock out fans like Artess
I’m a G, yes yes, shit I’m one of the best
I was wearing a vest for' I had hair on my chest
When I had peach fuzz I was off the meters
Snuff motherfuckers who scuffed my sneakers
Hate cleaning them shits with damn Griffey
Momma raised me right I just didn’t listen
See me on Smack with Tru
I’ll beat your ass till you black and blue
They couldn’t pay me enough to do a track with you
You’re not real, it just wouldn’t feel natural
You can see me on the Smack with Sai'
Talk greasy and I’ma black ya eye
Me and Ginny the truth and we ready to ride
Mother-motherfuck yo' life