Verse 3: Boldy James
I flip beans while I sip lean
f** a 12, pour a 16
My soda dirty, my dick clean
And I tote 30s with [?]
Used to be broke, having rich dreams
Now I'm rich having poor nightmares
While you live your whole life scared
I'm tap-dancing on a white scale
From a hand-held to a weight scale
Used to watch [?] work the triple [?]
Locked up, get a set a keys
Cop, cook and collect the cheese
With the top up on those 17s
Used to cop one for the 17s
Stretch Armstrong for those extra G's
Got ice all in my Byzantine
When the lights off my bezel bling
Since Jesus died for my sins
Then my cross, I'mma let it hang
Python in my Seven jeans
Strapped tight, I wouldn't try it
If I were you, I'd let it be
Because that life, I'm bout it bout it
Like Soldier Slim and Master P
From the Calio to the [?]
Third Ward to them 17s
Sippin Codeine with Promethezine
Gettin 30s off by the 17s
Its [?] world, they selling [?]
Got molly world, and them letter E
In chopper world, we fill them clips up to the top
We don't let 'em breathe