AR Rahman - Revival lyrics

Word up Uhh I've become accustomed to goin' through customs Pound in my pocket hollerin', "f** them" I'm livin' that life that you only talk about I'm f**in' them hoes that you only thought about I spend that money but you won't spend about As much that I made off my last single out Whatchu think of that? n***az, y'all know That I k** n***az slow when I live for this dough Got labels sick, I know they hate that I'm makin' they artists push them dates back I don't need tattoos to prove I pack tools Go 'head and act fool and become dog food Memph Man, uh-huh, yeah that's me Same n***a that don't give a "Basically" And I'm still smokin', it be like that Ya blunt went out, n***a relight that I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Bleek how? I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Geda how? I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Bleek how? I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Geda how? Yeah, I'm finally put in the game, right where I should be And the gat laid right where it should be Violate, you be put where you should be Have your family and friends screamin', "How could he?" Walk the streets with a body on his back Ride around in a V with the shottie in the back And for y'all that swear, that I front for rep Only thing that I front is hoes and coke and clips of tef With a co-D, that's a, menace to the people Yeah we sold D and made a livin' off of people Ghetto, corrupted us, and we taught ourselves How to add and scale plus bag and sell And how to, aim and shoot and I got brain when the wrist locked Wherever the dot spot leave the tape You keep actin' like you can't die in a blaze And I let sixteen of 'em dive in your wake I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Bleek how? I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Geda how? I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Bleek how? I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Geda how? Picture me rollin' in that five hundred Benz I got no love for you n***az it ain't no need to be friends I give a f** 'bout 'em, no need to talk 'bout 'em He act 'bout it, I let the fo'-fo' pound 'em The co-D's, n***a no statements Just shots, empty shell casings No prints, V's no tint Phone, Sprint, Six, no chips n***a R-O yeah M-A Realist hood and clique n***a, comprende? You b**h n***az know I'm focused right? You still catch M-E-M loc'n right? In the black V, wit' the gat on my lap Shovel in the trunk, go 'head n***a, front This M dot E-M-P-H-I-S Bleek Coppin' out to a one to three, you b**h n***a I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Bleek how? I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Geda how? I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Bleek how? I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Geda how? DJ Clue, Desert Storm Roc-a-Fella The Professional Part 2