[ Featuring Ron-G ]
G-a-n, folk, g-s-t-a
Tell me what the f*ck more I need to say
I been bout money, ain't seeing shit funny
Ain't no bitch in my blood, I don't run away
I don't give a f*ck bout what you trying to say
And even less a f*ck, bout what you trying to claim
You think shit's funny, like I'm some damn dummy
(Pop), (pop), gone take 2 right across yo' face
And come up off yo' chains, and all yo' rangs
Boy, that's what you get for trying to floss the scene
I don't mean to be mean, but I got evil in me
That makes me wanna do these evil thangs
And I ain't never learned how to control my rage
Except to skeet fire, burn the whole damn place
You wanna stay safe, then, let me stay on the stage
Cuzz now it's global g's and vg, we don't play
It's like I took the game and just put it to music, ya'll (yeah)
Broke it on down, so you can use it, dog (yeah)
Game can be sold if you choose to ball
But if you trip and fall, it's cuzz you used it wrong (yeah)
I do it for my hoods all across the globe (yeah)
Give them something real, to show them they ain't alone (yeah)
Don't matter if you hustle, or just smoking at home
We gone keep doing like it do, till the world explode
(Global Hood Music)
So gone turn it up
Let the beat punch back, till it's blurring up
I gotta whole damn sack for the burning up
And a gallon jug of syrup for the slurping up
(That G.H. Music)
So gone turn it up
Let the beat punch back, till it's blurring up
I gotta whole damn sack for the burning up
And a gallon jug of syrup for the slurping up
(Global Hood Music)
I'm gone go hard to motivate all my kinfolk
That's feeling down and out, just trying to stay smoked
I know what it's like when you got's to sell dope
Cuzz rent gotta be paid in 2 days, but you broke
I make my music for all my lyrical g's
That's still printing they flyers, and burning they cd's
And pressing they own covers to mob on every street
To flag down everybody, and hand it out for free-
Yo, I gotta tell you, that I know what it's like
Living everyday of yo' life, knowing you tight
And everybody around you, saying it's right
But the situation is wrong, you ain't getting no light
This for my 3-1-4, 7-4, 1-8's
From that 6-3-1-3-6, don't hate
Castle point to j-town, u-city to b-town
Gone and get that money, nigga's flip that weight
Cuzz we gone be great, it's our time to shine
I'm gone show my "show me state", how them gangstas grind
Let the whole world see what nelly said was lies
The day it ain't no more talent is the day I die
And that's cut and dry, so if down, let's ride
But if you ain't then you's a hata, gone step to the side
I need space like a mack truck, cuzz my swagger so wide
That it be hogging up the road, everytime I drive
So gone turn it up
Let the beat punch back, till it's blurring up
I gotta whole damn sack for the burning up
And a gallon jug of syrup for the slurping up
(Global Hood Music)
A hata tried to ask me, who the f*ck am I to speak
About anybody rocking in the game past me
What you hoes don't see, I chopped that game times 3
Then put to the fourth power bitch, yeah that's me
Wanna know where I come from, then I'm gone show you hoes
Three to yo' chest, one to yo' neck, and 4 to yo' dome
Probably best for you to keep a wide distance from bro
Unless you league, or the globe, or you b.O.s.s. Like my folks
Cuzz ain't to many muthaf*ckas worth the time today
And I done been around the world twice, so I can say
That's there's so many rappers that I done just lyrically slayed
And not on wax, I did that shit straight to they face
I'm the type to get blowed, and hit the club right
Stumble on yo' show, get the mike, and spit tight
Drop a freestyle that swallows up yo' light
Then crumble yo' ass up, when you come wanting to fight
Naw dog, I'm past the point of said, "new arrival"
Every move that I make is calculated survival
Every cent that I make is for my family, no lie folk
If you ain't talking bout money, what the f*ck is yo' life for
My rivals, they want me to die slow
They want me to ride hoe, they want me to stay broke
No-way folk, I told you I'm a different breed
Like I was built for this
God made a winner
And he named that boy Ron-G
So gone turn it up
Let the beat punch back, till it's blurring up
I gotta whole damn sack for the burning up
And a gallon jug of syrup for the slurping up
(Global Hood Music)
So gone turn it up
Let the beat punch back, till it's blurring up
I gotta whole damn sack for the burning up
And a gallon jug of syrup for the slurping up
(Global Hood Music)
