Something Else

Yo, you know I love to style on ya, blue 40-caliber
Butterfly doors on the triple black challenger
And I’m still in and out, got it so I’m spendin out
Dope boy, so I never have a problem in a drought
Don’t take, too much work if you can’t manage that
Just in case you run out of empties, use sandwich bags
Play with the hand you was dealt
That’s why I ride the track 'til it melt
I could care less how you feel, how you felt
I done spent niggas rent money on belts
Threesomes in the trunk, I’m fuckin for the wealth
And the hood ask about me, I’m somethin else
+ (Fiend)
You could tell the way I stack my money (I'm somethin else!)
Nah, I ain’t one of them dummies (I'm somethin else!)
Tre’s, nick’s, dimes and twenties (I'm somethin else!)
The way I get it in with the honeys (I'm somethin else!)
Still representin the block (I'm somethin else!)
And you ain’t got to tell me I’m hot (I'm somethin else!)
I’m exactly what they not (I'm somethin else!)
Hahh (I'm somethin else!) AH-HAHHH! (I'm somethin else!)
C.T.E. nigga… yeah!
Yeah! Let’s go
I ain’t even did nothin, feelin like I’m traffickin
See these blood diamonds, sir, my chain African
Speakin of my chain, yeah it need to get a job
Get the fuck up off my neck, sell dope or rob
Whatever that you do, look, don’t get caught
That stash get low, ya ass might get bought
Okay I’m over it, let’s talk about somethin else
I said I’m over it, I think I bought somethin else
That’s why I live e’ry day (day) like a thug holiday
+Suffocate+ a nigga about mines — J. Holiday
Quick to make a movie 'bout mine, Doc Holliday
Work strapped up 365, even holidays, yeah!
Yo, it hurts cause they know that I’m better, and they hate it
They came in with my whole style, and they made it
The dope boys love me in the hood, I’m they favorite
In the jails, niggas is makin bets I’mma say shit
Hands-on with certified G’s
Have your whole family missin for 35 G’s, please
I perfected my craft from a different aspect
So the bars is lethal and the voice is a asset
And as far as the people, they ain’t finish the class yet
I’m beyond these feeble-mind rappers that half step
I don’t carve the way, for these niggas like Aztecs
I touch souls, somethin’s felt; yeah, I’m somethin else