Project Steps

Old habit die hard huh

Disrespect will not be disregarded partna

You cross dat line I'm goin' off bout mine

Man woman and child, no exception home boy

no disrespect will be tolerated come hell or high water

You understand that? Ya bitch!

Bankroll mafia, hustle gang ova everythang nigga

I got fake bitches on my timeline

Sucka niggas in my rearview

Wonder why I'm even wasting my time

Even replying to letcha know I don't feel you

Fuck 'em!

Dodging nothin' but a Fed case

Betta know it, tired of holdin' on to dead weight

Goin' let it go

Ain't no turnin' round lookin' back

I Swear to God I'ma drop a gem like cookin' crack

And sell it hard

I'ma, Bankhead nigga to the heart

Tote tools on the boulevard

Its young niggas in a stolen car

With expensive ambition and exquisite pistols we showin’ off

Caught that line and we goin’ off

And let his mom give a damn, who you goin’ call?

You violatin, we ain’t lettin’ nothin’ go at all

We demonstrate and leave your brains on the fuckin' wall

Puss, you disrespectful nigga, got that

I ain’t neva been shot at, and I ain't shot back

Bossed up in a cool whip with a hot gat

And still got stacks from back from “What You Know About That?”

I’m just a project nigga on the front steps

And gettin’ money is the concept

By any means, and the belt where the gun kept

I let that whole clip ride, till ain’t one left in it

Try me, I'ma handle my business, handle my business

Try me, I'ma handle my business

Try me I'ma handle my business, try me

I got fake bitches in my timeline

Hatin' niggas in my rearview

I got naked bitches in the high rise

On the balcony so they could get a clear view

Of the city with my dick up in it

But in the morning won’t remember which bitch is it, shit

Ay I’m too rich for this shit but I’m too real to be tried nigga

Going against me just like goin’ against God

And I ain’t gotta make excuses

I don't fuck whoever, whatchu wanna do about it

Thought not, fuck around get crossed out

You caught slippin' roll down on your ass, .45 start spittin'

Goin' be a long day nigga I start trippin'

Don’t be stickin' to the script, drive-by audition, wassup

Whatchu do for dough, guess you do it too slow

And by the looks of your stuff, you ain’t doin' enough

I’m poppin' witnesses in the front, leave you in the dust

Kick in your door masked up like, “Who in the fuck?”

Boy you a ho ho, not just a little piece of pussy

Betta watch your ass talkin', you don't me nigga holdup

I’m just a project nigga on the front steps

And gettin’ money is the concept

By any means, and the belt where the gun kept

I let that whole clip ride, til ain’t one left in it

Try me, I'ma handle my business, handle my business

Try me, I'ma handle my business

Try me I'ma handle my business, try me

All I wanna do is go and chill

Take my mind off the ones I wanna go and kill

Yeah, I’m a daddy, love my little girls

But I’ll still check a bitch like ‘Pac did Lauryn Hill

Hey I ain’t grow into it, I was born with it

Used to sell crack to the children of the corn

I’m the reason why your mama warned you

Pray you don’t die before you make it to the street corner

I’m just a project nigga on the front steps

And gettin’ money is the concept

By any means, and the belt where the gun kept

I let that whole clip ride, til ain’t one left in it

Try me, I'ma handle my business, handle my business

Try me, I'ma handle my business

Try me I'ma handle my business, try me!