What Now (feat. Messy Marv)

[Chorus x2: Messy Marv]

All my niggas in the ghet-ta

Acceptin no losses, no cheats an no let downs

Foul cats mess around get the wet down

In yo city

Leave yo whole turf shut down

(Sucka What Now?)

[Verse 1: San Quinn]

It's lethal

The streets'll take ya where ya don't need to go

Ammunition

Bullet proof

Ghetto blastas slammin roofs

Straight loot an pursuit

To survive be bout politics

We not ruthless for suckas it's bound to make me contradict

Conflict of intrest

Because my Mobb is relentless

Suckas don't wanna see us in this or win this

Splended

Less suckas to worry bout

Broke niggas make the best crooks

Crossas an killas

More scrilla I accumulate

Enough to feed my reals

Not concerned about the murder rate so when I'm a get drilled

I be prayed up

Over raw

Wakin up's enough for me

But when I rhyme my minds on the grind

Strictly hustlin

I'm back to bust

It should be lavishly surroundin

Naturally reboundin from the loss cuz you thought I was grounded

This how we do it

The truth gets screwed gets ???

Me retire, the file wit ridas that remain at.

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 2: Messy Marv]

Bow down to the west world

In the bucket flossin wit yo best girl

Wanna turn up in the pearl

Now you muggin when you rollin by

Wanna get wet by the Tech cuz you lookin dry

Seen the hate up in yo eye

Be on the flight the next mornin

Suckas flex in Kanas, Seattle an Oregon

I got game

Doin thangs in 25 states

No condition we straight

Ammunition we hate

Kept it up in the case

Gangsta

In body armor

We rappers say "This is fake" when people's quick to bomb on ya

An bet a dime on ya

Befo' ya make a false move

Then get lost in yo crew

Now they all boo-hoo

Ya stay in doo-doo

Fucked around an got flushed

Out of line

Out of time

Thinkin you can't be touched

We quick to rush

Cuz suckas sit in concrete and calmly

Blow bomb-diggy on my way back to the big city.

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3: San Quinn]

Respect

We check the neck

You next

Seff an Mess

Elliot finess

At yo front steps, God bless

Lyrics you fearin no non-sense we far fetched

Leave you outlined stretched

Wit yo mind wrecked

I Rolex, you Timex

Watchin time tick

If it rhyme hit yo target sucka

Accurate

My limits

Have no maximum

Mashin 'em

Runnin down the platinum

Half of 'em rappin

I be surpassin 'em

My squad do the job

Let them do rappin

They rob

We gon' survive

While you dispise

Frisco playas live

Eyes wide scopin

Hopin we ain't touchin

Then we high rollin

High side wit our mouths open

Gold showin

I'm representin the playas an pimps

Playin simps

Pursuin mill tickets, bangin my hits

Still we kill 'em this is like 11-Feev (11/5)

Keep it real like the 6-9 Vill you suckas best believe.

[Chorus x4]