Uh, four in the mornin' family, yes
Bigger risks, even bigger rewards
(La música de Harry Fraud)
Capo!

They keep sayin' what I can't do, let me show 'em what I can do (show 'em then)
I'm ready to go to war, this fully loaded at my hand pull
I used to duct tape the .38, I had the heat with the broken handle (remember that)
My grandma used to pray for me 'cause she knew she had a handful (I miss you mama)
The streets done got so spooky I started prayin' to the Santos
Every time I came outside they had a big display of candles (who got killed?)
That represents a loss of life or a loss of light
That's a dark situation when you finna face an awful night
I robbed a plug where they blow up, 'cause I was tryna make it off of white
One thing about the drip, you gotta make sure that the sauce is right
We buy them pretty whips, big flyin' saucer types
So you might thought you saw UFO in New York at night
Smokin' my last blunt on the hanger before I caught the flight
Let's not talk about the jewels, they know I rock all sorts of ice (Mazzi got me right)
My back against the wall how I was taught to fight
In my hood around sixteen we went from playin' sports to, well
We went from playin' sports to sellin' drugs so we can play in a Porsche (uh-huh, facts)
Or get knocked by the cops, watch our day in the caution
How they interrogate you, you'd think that they into torture
At this point it depends on what your lawyer says, it's gon' cost you, but (how much you said?)
I too was like you, I thought that the coppers couldn't pinch me
I was too worried about the bitches, and the drip, and the coppin' Balenci'
I will draw on a nigga just like my Glock is da Vinci, shit
Rolex president plus I got a Lewinsky
I make sure my whole team ball like Popovich (facts)
I urinate Ace of Spade when I gotta piss
I'm feelin' constipated in my whip, let me drop my shit
Any time I get locked, the first thing I do is lock my lips
My nigga got caught with a .30, they offered him thirty
Third time felon in court, he's not even goin' on thirty
I knew a bartender bitch that cried when sellin' that car
She said when they closed the strip club, times had fell on her hard
My nigga Rod tried the nine to five, he's almost back to sellin' the hard
I promise these are true facts and I'm just tellin' it, God

Yes, you was cryin' on the roof
Me, I was swimmin' in the staircase
My God, I'm drownin'
Sacrifices in my shoe box
Blew the hinges off a few box
God save me, the Devil lied to me
I put it in the pot
Then I hit it with the yah-yah-you-you
Yes
Spin around, hopped, skipped, and jumped on that triple beam
Ayo, Capo!

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Besnik E. Sadikay, Joseph Guillermo Jones II, Rory W. Quigley