Progress - EA$Y lyrics

(The is The 903) [Verse 1: TX k**a] I'm the illest, I'm the realist, and I'm signing your checks Going through your whole squad asking, “Who's up next?” Trapping one way or another, we still moving the bricks Clown around in my town, hear the Uzi click O.M.G., I'm the O.G., I think you know me These days, getting paid by The 903 99% of the game below me Damn, the top of the hill so lonely End of the day, sleep inside my house in the hills Laugh in my face at the place and still send me the bill And speaking of bills, it's about time for you to duck Got the gat and the will of a man who does not give a f** The sh** used to get to me, but I'm stronger now (now) Continue making my sh** and tune out the clowns (clowns) Man, I love these fake friends that're actually haters ‘Cause they fuel the machine that gets me my paper (Ya!) [Hook: The 903] I'm a, real k**er, drug dealer, heart stealer I'm a, young n***a; dick's bigger than your dollar figure f**ing b**hes, getting' money, Mayweather Driving through your hood in a Phantom with the black leather It's easy, damn, it's too easy Easy, damn, it's too easy Easy, damn, it's too easy Easy, damn, it's too easy [Verse 2: Rick Stone] I see you (you), and you see me (me) But where I come from, staring is a felony I've k**ed men for less (less), and let ‘em off for worse (worse) I murdered three piggies in less time than this verse Rick's the Big Bad Wolf, bark, bark, bark I'll suit up and blast your a** like a young Tony Stark (boom!) All the guys I thought was homies really wanna kiss up While b**hes send me pics, saying, “You can tear this up!” My mind's on another plane, I'm the next to Alan Watts The only distractions I have in life are d** and bad thoughts I know that I'm flying higher, them haters be wearing wires (why?) I'm just preaching to the choir, ‘cause Rick Stone's the Messiah (true) The hate you're sending me is like a breath of fresh air b**hes and posers crying, "It's just not fair!" Become so reclusive, I'm sick of life so completely What's the point of life when everything I do is f**in easy? [Hook] [Verse 3: Progress] Rolling through my hood with the silver 24's I got your girl riding shotgun, going real slow Blast the new 903 out the back of the trunk Got the law on my a**, they can kiss it, pucker up Then I slam on the gas, peel out, motherf**er Then I pull up on the bank, deal it out, motherf**er Tell 'em, "Put it in the bag," then I'm out, motherf**er Don't give me no lip, I'll get the steel out, motherf**er 'Cause we raw (raw), we the 903 We got the game on lockdown and we buried the key TX k**a, cold-trilla, super-califragilistic-expi-ali-docilicious, we the realist in this building Rhyme's sick like it's getting pneumonia (so sick) Who's the best? Well, I already told ya (we the best) Hate to burst your pathetic little bubble But you come around us, you just asking for trouble Motherf**er [Hook]