S.u.c. 4 Life

(talking)

Southsive for live, aka Southside for life

Z-Ro, K.T., recognize my motherfucking team

[Z-Ro]

Let me introduce myself, I'm Z-Ro the Crooked, Mo City block

The place that you don't want to go cause you'll get no pity block

With drug dealers when we need some paper

Get on the corner and we bleed till we fifty keep avoiding them haters

Cause they keep dropping salt in the game

Bumping they gums so they end up getting caught in the game, don't maintain

Handle my business on the low-low, hit a lick and go to Akapoko

Sipping on moet and smoking ball bat to that dro and doe-doe

Jesus let me ball till I fall in the grave, doing it my way

As a rich nigga and call it a day, I play with my K

Cause it ain't no people where I stay

Nothing but memories and blood stains of yesterday

How can I make it to heaven if I be chilling in hell

If they can make a million you can make a million as well

Until then, I'ma be making deals with the Jamaicans

S.U.C. to the finish until he call me in

(Chorus)

Recognize my team cause we got players that's gone represent

Screwed Up Click for life, S.U.C. Screwed Up Click for life

All I want is money chasing paper after dead presidents

Screwed Up Click for life, S.U.C. Screwed Up Click for life

[K.T.]

You bet it's me, K.T., new S-U-S-P-E-C-T

Living better and cutting and trying to stack my currencies

Stay alive, survive, the lord knows my soul purified

And make a way for my family although I know they tried

I'm doing bad, wishing for things that I never had

It's my dad, drops and blue over gray rag

Until I make a million or more, I'ma smoke and lean

And stack my green, until a player hit the floor

Waking up calling shots, beam glocks, and doing shows

Getting lifted on flows, six hundred, and hydro

K.T. and Z-Ro, on a smash for cream

Searching for dead politicians if y'all know what I mean

A murdering team, spit my guillotine at you busters

On the grind getting mine with the watch full of bezzels

M-O-B I would of team until my time is foul

Stack my paper, scream Presidential smoke weed and get high

(Chorus)

Recognize my team cause we got players that's gone represent

Presidential Player for life, I'm a Presidential Player for life

All I want is money chasing paper after dead presidents

Presidential Player for life, I'm a Presidential Player for life

[Z-Ro]

Ain't shit changed, my life is still about drugs and slugs

You could keep your lights on, you've got to get your fight on, and mean mug

Early birds get the worm, but motherfuckers tend to shortstop

The Ro I aim my pistol played a deadly burn

Z-Ro the Crooked and my routine will never change

Hust-l-ing and bust-l-ing to keep my fingers on some pocket change

Got to go stay the same until, I die nigga

When I make the tactics of a Mo City then stay high nigga

We bleed blocks from seven to seven to seven again

Holding scratch, peeping packs, slowed then and three for tens

I got what you need, living in this gutter daily

Even though I bleed the block it's like I can't eat because this life pay me

Ducking the police when they be sliding by

And I swang low on a sweet chariot as I'm riding high

I'm paranoid everytime you see me, cause I be smoking niggas

Regular and it's fucking with my conscience so I bust freely

Wake up in the morning and I caught my tip

And get ready for another day of this gangsta shit

(talking)

Y'all know nigga, every motherfucking day

You got to get that pay, it's the only way

(Chorus - 2x)

Recognize my team cause we got players that's gone represent

Screwed Up Click for life, S.U.C. Screwed Up Click for life

All I want is money chasing paper after dead presidents

Screwed Up Click for life, S.U.C. Screwed Up Click for life