Last Leg

[Chorus: Snug Brim]
Nigga we smashing through the fast lane
Money's the [?], position till the cash came
From Kansas City to the bay‚ we still make power moves
And counting figures with niggas who bust they triggers
Tryna [?] on avinues

[Verse 1: Young Z]
Ain't shit sweet‚ he ain't pour me
On my street‚ the paper here, them haters go hand in hand
They gon funk, we go man for man
We take out the chief in command‚ then we leaving the land
Return in sedans, poppin shit up
You know them bullet holes known for locking lips up
Bitch what
This just me and my nuts
You and your boys against me and my muts
I get under a thug
On your porch, I get under a rug
You under the influence of slugs
Me and you‚ my choice, my voice on tape again
Wait till your waking and then we take your friends
Them niggas ain't filthy, like us ugley niggas
Suck and freak each other niggas
When the snakes eyes slither
Wait till the cakes are delivered
Spend twice just to bake the nigga

[Verse 2: Skatterman]
Got the work, this bird feteral holding
For the next 2 weeks, we gon see some feterals holding
Nobody panic, this dirty, won't you sweep it up?
Everything's green, Skatter, good work, keep it up
My lawyer told my wifey that they coming to get me
I won't hit the streets again until 2050
So my bags packed, that strap, outside the taxi way
Fuck the drug charge, they try to prosicute for tax evasion
Can't call my mom, cause I know she under high servailanse
Court cases for all my nabors
I'm paranoid, don't want nobody next to me
Don't know who to trust, cause everybody's an accesserey
Limpin on my last leg, working on my last egg
Almost dead, cause I almost had to kill that last fed
Put it on my life, the helicopter's getting closer
Grab it out, pop you with the toaster

[Chorus: Snug Brim]
Nigga we smashing through the fast lane
Money's the [?], position till the cash came
From Kansas City to the bay, we still make power moves
And counting figures with niggas who bust they triggers
Tryna [?] on avinues

[Verse 3: San Quinn]
I walk around half dead, stomach ake, half fit
Still standing tall like a soldier on his last leg
I ain't never sold coke, never been blasted
But to watch my family die, can't look past it
I write a book called Tragic, distribute it through these dentists
Already did it, I'm penny pintching
Big to a midget, and small to a giant
That's what I tell the critics and my cliants
I'll buy it
Squads, no wonder why we hot
Tryna spot gang [?]
I'll ride till I die, [?]
[?]
Street patrolling
Grippin the gun, spin the mud
Just wanting some Benjaman Buttons
Itching to bubble [?]

[Verse 4: Snug Brim]
It's mind over matter, [?]
It ain't right [?], your neck
Playing these games, with niggas with no chains
Pop up in your front yard, pistol at close range
I go both ways, leave bullets all over your driver's seat
We got weed, [?]
This shit is deep
I won't blieve [?]
Be cairfull when you sleep, cause we creepin, hoe
And whe we get high, we run up in your home
Shoot the chroam
Leave you taped up on your dome
I sware to you, brother
You can't get in my bubble [?]

[Chorus: Snug Brim]
Nigga we smashing through the fast lane
Money's the [?], position till the cash came
From Kansas City to the bay, we still make power moves
And counting figures with niggas who bust they triggers
Tryna [?] on avinues