The Jacka - Prize Winners lyrics

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The Jacka - Prize Winners lyrics

[Verse 1: The Jacka] In the Benz with a felon, ridin' around with a Ruger out Have your a** on one leg, like a pelican coolin' out f**ing off bands, thumbin' through a hunnid count The day you try rob me, turn your crib to a haunted house Really in the streets, this can't be beef the way you run your mouth Hit you in your kidney, move to Sydney with my patna (?) Paper gave me style, not my pal, then you won't be saved I'm from k**a Cal, sell brown to get on a wave Free that boy Max-B, Nutty-B from the cage Thuggin' for my UK n***as tryna score a raise Knocked some rich b**hes but I stepped when I saw they ways Probably (?) cause its Mothers day She let her boy harvest when I couldn't hold my weight Now we moving catch me in a tube and on a wake (?) makin' stairs we ain't have a break Spaz then we clashed like I'm slidin' on a home plate [Hook: Freeway] Always bring the trophy home we are prize winners Real n***a you can see it in my eyes n***a Live forever we still alive when we die Just a kid from the ghetto I swear to God we the Mob yeah Always bring the trophy home we are prize winners Drug dealer move a quarter key with my n***a Live forever we still alive when we die Squeeze the biscuit together I swear to God we the Mob n***a [Verse 2: Berner] Prices on my head I pray their pistols will jam Overnight 20 won't sleep till they land Light depths got me feeling like I'm the man 2015 gave the windows a tint Bubble Gum Cookies someone give me a Xan Mix it with the Gin, I might black out again Pretty long hair but she stupid as hell When I drop em & stop callin' then they usually fail Got this for your girl, yeah her p**y will sell She stick a finger in the bag and hit the bump with her nail Been around the world no one flyer than me They don't keep good work or prices like me .40 on my lap when I pull up with Jack We in the Ak for a week just movin' the pack Freeze & Ampichino man that's really my fam Young Bossi and Cla**y he just got out the can [Hook] [Verse 3: Freeway] Mob sh**, toxic We known drug dealers that love b**hes that slide dick Moved plenty nicks then I moved to the sticks Grab that nice whip cause flippin' Yayo was my vice grip Keep the heater black, Four-Fever got a nice grip Run like cheetah 'fore you meet up with my heater I got freaky with your senorita No I'm not an officer but I beat her with the night stick Life ain't promised but d**h is My cousin (?) & my ahki Jack are a few n***as that I miss Grinding as far as the rest start reclining And we use to grab bricks on consignment Yall simple, I'm like Simon I'm the ply man And my ahki's in Akron Ohio know how to find 'em They the defense, I'm the offensive line man Ya'll (?) we are lions [Hook]