Stony Creek Lane (G-Mix)

[Intro]

[Hook: Matt McGhee]
Coming up, coming down
Riding round, in your town
Put it down everytime
Shawty loving every line
Bitch I'm on that steady grind
Niggas ain't gon' take my shine
Niggas finna give me mine, if I gotta take it cause I'm (coming up)

GramFam got you on your toes, you gotta step it up
Your girl wanna kick it with us, I think I said enough
I ain't finna stop until my niggas bread is up
And when we get it we gon' keep it, nigga bet your bucks
You think you fucking with the team? Go 'head and test your luck
You a bitch, [?] pussy frail as fuck [?]
If you fuck with one of us, here come the rest of us
(Aye, rMell come and talk to these niggas!)

[Verse 1: rMell]
I'm on a yacht, yacht, no Schoolboy Q
I'm wavy, I'm wavy
And I came up out that water like I trained with the Navy
And I'm the Bomb like Swanton in Comme des Garçons
And my Supra's so wanton, your girl tag along
Just like she should
She wanna ride around in the import with the grain, that's all wood
And I don't blame her, now I'm riding around like I'm famer, uh
Famous, getting hoes like John Stamos
Stacking paper like Dunder Mifflin, Wu Chef Swag off in your kitchen
Bitches better be wet, I'm 'bout as fly as young ignorance
And I'm fly in that fire red Bape Camo, it's ridiculous
No effort, like I sleep in class, but I'll still pull an ace on the final exam
I got my clique on my side, it's the Family of Gram
All lame ass niggas get marked as spam
Weak like do you lift bro?
Sloppy like do you know flows?
I got more flows than sororities, I stay tuned with all of their menstruals
Ohhh
M-meezi got it, I know you want it
That's that juice, nigga, deuce nigga
I'm laying low and I'm still bigger

[Verse 2: Miles Meraki]
(I can't stand these niggas out here, son
These niggas got like 4, 5, 6, fucking projects out
These motherfuckers got managers and shit
They don't even got shit to manage, what you managing, a SoundCloud huh?
Still doing better off than these motherfuckers son, these niggas not playing smart, man)

Roll around town with prolly 2 girls
Give my old clothes to my new girl
Breasts out, said she was the best out
Got the next out, bouta write a check out, unh
Payday niggas stuck on old shit
Hating ass niggas stuck on ho shit
Iont really gotta ask for no shit
Any nigga put their hand out never hold shit
Niggas took the crown, ran out, made the door flip, unh
One song fucking with your whole shit, lotta ass
But she really talking on the low shit, gotta ask
Why you fucking with him, he don't know shit, lotta bags
I be in there every time the door flip, I don't know why they ain't notice
I change the time like a flow switch, smelling like pine in the old whip
Hit a recline while a ho strip
I'm beating the block
There's weed in the seat of the drop
These niggas don't need their own sets
They need a good single to drop
Don't even compete with themselves
Or even the team that I rock with, shit
Since I was 16, tryna get a ho on top dick, quick, now I got them in the mosh pit
Bitch, I give a fuck about a blog post
Niggas acting like they never got shit
Pull up, hop out, nigga, pop shit, unh
Bitches give head like some pop shit nonsense
Niggas get smoked on some Pac shit, [?] shit
Lately I've been fucking with my conscience
Fuck it though, I'm sitting at the seat again
Change a bitch life, never meet again
Young Rak, I can tell these niggas how to be the man, unh

[Verse 3: Matt McGhee]
You niggas ain't even seeing gram, you niggas ain't even seeing grands
Me and my niggas is seeing mils, you niggas is looking like you need a hand
Alley-oop shattered the backboard, why niggas hating on Matt for?
You all could never be this fly, not enough stamps in your passport
Waking up next to a bad broad, you wake up next to a mad broad
You don't be fucking her right, dog, I hit her like she my last broad
Hit her like it's going out of style, this ain't never going out of style
Y'all niggas hot for a season, and my team is gonna be here a while
So act like you know that
And yo girl is dying to know Matt
About money, don't know nothing then know that
My credit card is Amex, I'm pro-black
Put a fist in the air for my real niggas
I'm going hard this year, I'ma kill niggas
Them niggas you looked down on done grown up
So look up when you speak to me, little nigga
I son you all, I run you all, you in my lane I'll run you off
I done you off and that ain't shit
When I get a mil, I'ma say that ain't shit
If it ain't a hunnid mil, nigga that ain't rich
And I ain't never met a girl that said Matt ain't shit
She better know a fucking god when she see one
Niggas no body better 'till they meet one
Well me one, McGhee won
And when we done, we getting every single dollar, you won't see one
You hate me, huh?
Well, I walk around alone, cause y'all niggas ain't about shit
And I'm out this
And this whole damn game is ours, bitch
You gon' know GramFam's in the stars, bitch
And I put that on my OG, rollies for my whole team

And I'm coming up, coming down
Give your bitch the runaround
She love my style, I love the sound
She making when she going down
I tell her she gotta put a down-
Payment on this pimpin'
If you ain't wit it, get missing
Grammy Family, end of sentence, bitches