Correction Lyrics Whole Gang by Payroll Giovanni

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Lyrics

Yeah, twenty chains, so you know the wave
Rollie over bang, I’ve been sh*ttin’ since the Rollie days
Ja blue and yellow, full of nuggets, look like Golden State
Same n***a used to rollerblade, now the Rover skate
Pocket fat as f**k, need to run, my sh*t overweight
I’ll whack a n***a over crumbs, especially over weight
.40 on me, been done left a n***a, like I’m runnin’ late
I was in Miami, me and Baby will throw a face, n***a
Four pints cost me ten some
I be always on the turn-around, like I missed some
Took my b*t*h to [?], told her pick some
You ain’t gettin’ paid, n***as be too busy d**k suckin’

Always wanna be in first place, f**k a runner up
Countin’ paper all night, f**k, I gave my thumb a cut
I was 21 with twenty on me, but that’s nothin’ much
So, you doin’ money talk? It better be a buck and up
n***as want a taste of the pies but can’t look straight in the eyes
I’m startin’ to think that you a snake in disguise
I’ve been focusin’, lately, I’ve been chasin’ the skies
I keep this sh*t pushin’, I can get a Wraith if I tried
I’m breakin' her eyes on every bed in 4-5-6
And give me space while I’m shootin’ if you don’t got sh*t
Seein’ n***as gettin’ money, then they go out quick
Settin’ examples for the youngin’s who don’t know ‘bout sh*t
Westside in this b*t*h, and the Eastside too
Your b*t*h a lil spooky, how she wanna be my boo?
With prescription contacts, you can’t see my crew
You fake n***as transparent, I can see right through

Uh, yeah
Servin’ OT, ‘cause the block hot as Takis
b*t*h, this ain’t no f**kin’ stir fry, this hibachi
Did the 69 with your b*t*h, I ain’t Tekashi
Lil n***a, big strap, but won’t no big n***a box me
013’ I was itchin’ for a body
Few years before, I’ll pull up in a hottie
Around the same time, I was stretchin’ [?]
Fast forward, now I’m in a Wraith on [?], sippin’ wacky
n***as hatin’ on me, sh*t, I heard it through the grapevine
Plug waitin’ on me, I just gotta cross the stateline
Free Boss Hogg, got my n***a doin’ state time
Whippin’ up babies take talent, it don’t take time

The next Rollie on my wrist, prolly a 40
Or Presi-, lil ass n***a, bag heavy
I could do the route there and back without a navi-
Let a pretty b*t*h run through the mall like her daddy
I was up, fell off, then got back again
Quit rappin’, start trappin’, tryna rap again
Puttin' miles on a Kia, tryna snatch a Benz
Sprayed the car and double back, them n***as actin’ dead
They said I was the one, but I was lackin’ bread
Now, I know to keep it on me, never lack again
I’m sendin' P. Eazy kicks when he at the feds
She was talkin' down ‘bout the gang, so I got the head

Bein’ broke taught a n***a how to live with money
Wakin’ up next to hoes, thinkin’ they stealin’ from me
My trust issues made me clutch pistols
When you up, they on your nuts, when you broke, they don’t f**k with you
Good luck with it, boy, I know how it go
I done sold a whole brick, I done sold out a show
Water drippin’ off the piece, all the way to the floor
I make it look like I’m rich, selling eighfies a blow
You either listen to them or you listen to me
Snatchin’ big off a chicken, yeah, it’s mission a wing
I ain’t put it back together, boy, you gettin’ it clean
And I ain’t never sold nobody no Michigan weed
Did time in the joint, n***a, and I ain’t goin’ back
Ain’t ‘pposed to be around no felons, and I’m knowin’ that
I’m holdin’ straps while I’m throwin’ craps
Wife beater on, cookin’ a O of crack
Boy, you know it’s facts

Just made it back with two hunid of the finest
Call my Mexican and get two hunid on consignment
A’s on my report card, I turned in my assignment
Had my first crack house when n***as wore Breightling’s
Bentley truck at Bossa Nova, order some lasagna
Spin this b*t*h around, I got a play at Ace of Diamonds
Lookin’ for the sh*t I’m wearin’ today, you can’t find it
Three thousand for a outfit, and it ain’t even Friday
“Finish up this load, then I’m done,” I told Gozzy
Then I got another load, sh*t, I tried it
Twenty chains on, couple of them b*t*hes hidin’
Told them, “Ain't no need to test drive this b*t*h, ‘cause I’m buyin’ it”

4-1
The sh*t I spit, make n***as get up off they ass
And quit trippin’ and try to stumble on some cash
Used to double off of halves, tryna bubble to a slab
Now, I push a coupe, stompin’ up the motherf**kin’ Ave
I’m a Westside trafficker, you known for slappin’ dirt
When I [?], I put you on the front and back of shirts
You could grab a verse, or come grab a [?], sh*t, whatever works
b*t*hes lay the cheddar first, chasin’ pu**y never works
Born in a family where nobody had a job
You either sell dope or sell dope, you nothin’ if you rob
I engage in crack sales, b*t*h, I’m married to the mob
Stacks sloppy and flat, just a motherf**kin’ slob
I’m a diamond linker, vacuum-sealed bag shrinker
You a small thinker, ass kisser, couch sleeper
My clique all leaders, trailin’ foreign car blinkers
Headin’ to the club in a dozen two-seaters, n***a (BYLUG)

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