Released: April 20, 2011
Producer: Michael Uzowuru
Wolf Gang
Golf Wang
Swag me out, bitch
In an $8000 outfit
Y'all hear these niggas talking, it ain't about shit
I'm on 15, these niggas on Cloud 6
Tryna get to 9, I'm who they get behind
Thirsty to get some shine
But bitch, you can't skip the line
And time won't even give you minutes
Cause this shit is mine
You live that ad-lib life, with the unscripted lines
I kill em all, just ball, no evidence behind
My steps too complex, you can't convict the crime
I'm just a criminal, high to my last breath
In and out of cities pushing missies till no gas left
Street ballin, I was rushing out my Timex
And I'm about that fucking scratch paper like a math test
That good shit is forming back, Rogaine
And they so plain I can't feel em: cocaine
When it's in the nasal and you're facially numb mane
Snorting all them five dollar verses, them shit's is chump change
I'm on my grind, that's some cliche shit
But if they see me anywhere, my enemies hate quick
Like "he ain't even swag, nigga, he can't spit" and
"Everytime he come around we feel like we ain't shit"
Save the chit-chatter, it's money to get after
Cheating in the book of life
A nigga about to skip chapters
From flat broke to phat quotes, I'm a real bastard
And I smoke weed til I feel like a Zen master
It's certified homicide, I'm a clit' master
High class pretty bitch basher, big kush asher
They told me Domo you're the chosen one
Convincing every single bitch that they the only one
This shit was cute even way before the song begun
If I'm not a real nigga, then show me one
But bitch, don't show me none
Golf Wang
Swag me out, bitch
In an $8000 outfit
Y'all hear these niggas talking, it ain't about shit
I'm on 15, these niggas on Cloud 6
Tryna get to 9, I'm who they get behind
Thirsty to get some shine
But bitch, you can't skip the line
And time won't even give you minutes
Cause this shit is mine
You live that ad-lib life, with the unscripted lines
I kill em all, just ball, no evidence behind
My steps too complex, you can't convict the crime
I'm just a criminal, high to my last breath
In and out of cities pushing missies till no gas left
Street ballin, I was rushing out my Timex
And I'm about that fucking scratch paper like a math test
That good shit is forming back, Rogaine
And they so plain I can't feel em: cocaine
When it's in the nasal and you're facially numb mane
Snorting all them five dollar verses, them shit's is chump change
I'm on my grind, that's some cliche shit
But if they see me anywhere, my enemies hate quick
Like "he ain't even swag, nigga, he can't spit" and
"Everytime he come around we feel like we ain't shit"
Save the chit-chatter, it's money to get after
Cheating in the book of life
A nigga about to skip chapters
From flat broke to phat quotes, I'm a real bastard
And I smoke weed til I feel like a Zen master
It's certified homicide, I'm a clit' master
High class pretty bitch basher, big kush asher
They told me Domo you're the chosen one
Convincing every single bitch that they the only one
This shit was cute even way before the song begun
If I'm not a real nigga, then show me one
But bitch, don't show me none
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From the album