Ever wonder what it feels like to balance on the edge of life, law, and a little bit of luxury swagger? G Herbo takes us on that tightrope walk in this lyrical journey. He ain't met Snoop or Suge, but he's lived the thug life Pac rapped about. Packed with tales of hustling from dealing coke to a nine-to-five grind, he’s all about survival and stacking cheddar. His confessional flows touch on deep struggles and the street politics that define him, yet he’s living it up in thousand dollar sweaters. There's a candid reflection on his rough past and relentless grind, painting a picture of a man who's dodged death and ducked consequences but hasn’t lost his hustle or flair. This ain't just another street anthem; it’s a gritty, stylish survival guide.
Death Row
Lyrics
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I was on death row
I ain't never met Snoop, I ain't never met Suge
Nigga livin' like a thug, like I'm 'Pac though
I knew I could hit my cuz for that Glock though
When the times got hard, I was sellin' coke
Wanted mama on my side, had to let her know
Seventeen, I bought a nine, had to let it blow
Now a nigga on the grind, I got five on my schedule
Herbo really quiet, I get loud 'bout my cheddar though
Really was outside, on the nine with Berettas, oh
No bap, I ain't lying, I got five on my schedule
So if I text outside, come outside
How I tell her, I ain't regular
I knew she was a vibe when I met her
I rock thousand dollar sweaters
Bitches love me like Coachella
Told her, "Gimme some"
I respect you, don't address me like I'm anyone
Bitch is messy thick, that she got her titties done
Oh, she a dime in her city, huh
She like lemon-lime with her Henny, huh
You ain't choosin' niggas, you get diamonds from any of 'em
Run away girl, I could line up with twenty of 'em
But that hoe so fine, it don't mean me none
Broski tried to smash, she ain't give him none
Still got a slide in my ride with a fifty drum
City dumb, I can't have no fun, I got fifty guns, nigga
I was on death row
I ain't never met Snoop, I ain't never met Suge
Nigga livin' like a thug, like I'm 'Pac though
I knew I could hit my cuz for that Glock though
When the times got hard, I was sellin' coke
Wanted mama on my side, had to let her know
Seventeen, I bought a nine, had to let it blow
Now a nigga on the grind, I got five on my schedule
All that dumb shit I did, really was it worth it though?
Don't define me by my past, ain't nobody perfect though
I wasn't thinkin' 'bout the consequences, it was working though
I jumped headfirst in the trap, but I had that bitch twerkin' though
Ayy, who you workin' for? Tell me what you lurkin' for (yeah)
He just gettin' money, what you gotta merk him for? (Fuck nigga)
Seeing niggas fakin', that shit erkin' though (that shit erkin')
But I'ma pull up on him when it's perfect though
I could tell you what I'm worth, or you could search it though
Hands greasy, 'bout that chicken, like I'm Church's though
City bad, but my block was like the worstest though
I couldn't lack, I took my Glock inside the church before
Summer time, like the hood having curses
I ain't never lied in my verses
I ain't never lied when I'm merchin' it
Couple opps ain't survive out them surgeries
I was on death row
I ain't never met Snoop, I ain't never met Suge
Nigga livin' like a thug, like I'm 'Pac though
I knew I could hit my cuz for that Glock though
When the times got hard, I was sellin' coke
Wanted mama on my side, had to let her know
Seventeen, I bought a nine, had to let it blow
Now a nigga on the grind, I got five on my schedule
Writer(s): Dwan Lecurtis Jaquan Avery, Herbert Wright
Copyright(s): Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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