No Time, n***a. I ain't waiting for sh** my n***a (Whuttttt)No Time for the f** sh** Tell the judge he could s** dick. (f** On!) (Meech what it look like?)(Tell the judge!) Verse 1 - Icewear Yeah, hit my lawyer wit a half brick Told him if i get some time, n***a hide this So when a n***a touch down I can grind quick But if a n***a skip town they won't find sh** Hit my brother Rick up for a couple dollas (wuddup doe) Kiss my nephew on the head and I love my mama Thinking bout my brother Rez I just love to call him He told me money was the problem and I love to solve em' See he died in the feds of an aneurysm Think about him every night, goddamn i miss him On the flight when G died, I was handlin' bidness They left my baby by the dishes, blind him in the kitchen Got a tweet about who did it through @ mention But that's the devil tryna make me make a bad decision Shook my head fifty times cuz it had me twisted I'm gettin bread makin rhymes plus im baggin b**hes Chorus I got no time for the f** sh** Tell the judge he could s** dick This should don't never really matter making much sense Came up from the bottom, now I'm up quick No time for the f** sh** (f** sh**) Tell the judge he could s** dick This should dont never really matter making much sense Came up from the bottom, now I'm up quick Verse 2 - Icewear It be the ones closest to ya that'll do ya bad The same n***as that ya feed and let em move ya bag They say money make you evil whether good or bad Fast lane got me speedin ima do that dash f**ed up how they did my little n***a Scooter Prolly never wouldve died if he was with some shooters They say its cold in the D, but its gettin cooler Bring it to him in his sleep, call me Mr. Crougar I remember countin' twenty in the SUV f**in with the homie Smoke, n***a SMB That's the Seven Mile Bloods, they'll wetcha teeth Real n***as show me love, yeah they mess wit me Never let a n***a play me til the d**h of me Pour some lean and I learned my own recipe Hit the club fifty deep with the tech with me I blow a n***a like a whistle from a referee Chorus Verse 3- Hardwork Jigg (Hardwork n***a! Wuddup my n***a Vezzo? Free Smokie) No question, when it comes to strap they blue glued on My lil homies make about thirty in the school zone My OG's keep n***a plugged like a light switch How you think I came home and bounced back, Mike Vick b**h I'm from the east, Seven is the Mile RIP to Perry, I need my n***a now OT with the yellows, pounds of the reggos I'm stackin up them green guys, wuddup my n***a Vezzo? Thirty in the bezzle, thirty in the pump Styrofoam for the lean, its lookin dirty in my cup Im an eastside n***a, f**in westside broads Couple lil n***as wit me stealin westside cars No time for the f** sh** so Im known to bust sh** Bust clips and bust scrips and send em on a bus trip b**h its Hardwork yeah im eastside trippin 28's on the oldies got me tree high sittin mof**a Chorus