Оригинален текст
I went from old school Chevy's to drop top porches
You couldn't walk a mile off in my Air Forces
And you ain't seen what I've seen
I can get a 100,000 in these Sean John jeans
I went from old school Chevy's to drop top porches
you couldn't walk a mile in my air forces
And you ain't did what I did
If you from where I'm from you gotta get how you live
Everybody already know jeezy real street nigg*
Every time you see me all around street
I hope you got yours I keep mine
In the club blowing dro throwing up gang signs
And you already know dog
745 back to back me and O dog
These other is jokers
What they rein up wit I spent it up all the strokers
In one night eight girls 10 bottles of cris
Forty grand spent back just to make u glance my wrist
Keep bread so we carry dem toaster
But keep back though my earrings ferocious
It's not just my imagination
I'm the one in the topic in yo conversation
Jack boyz say they gon rob
But on the real fk y'all don't want these problems
Chorus
Black tees, black ones, and a fitted cap
The Mack 11 make me walk wit a crazy dap
Y'all say we country yee-haw
The money comin back and forth like a seesaw
And y'all ain't never seen what we saw
Stacks of twenty dollar bills, bricks, or white raw
What they got Lil Pha we don't care bout s**t
Ludacris how they ride out I-20 wit dem bricks
s**t I spit it for y'all
On the real my s**t I spit it for y'all
Who gives a fk about friends?
If you mix the baking soda wit it you can get a Benz
While y'all robbing and boosting
I'm standing over the stove like the chef in Houston
And it's not about the flip mane
Want the real bread it's all about your whip game
Chorus
