dough pildin

listen, don't talk to me about songs cause i embarrass you, 24-carat gold plaques in my living room, same karat the watch. know the fucking time, i wrap circles around niggas. on my grind, i draw circles around these roaches with the chalk, get your body outlined in the streets of new york, by the king from queens. long island, hempstead two to your head, you stop wildin', look at me now, i'm growned up, i turned out to be a legend in my own time, they say, general bars; he stalks through the night, you can hear him in the ghetto, where it's dark cause the light's all, shot out, shout out to niggas, put the pot out, when they see the boys coming from deep, it's getting hot out, we hit the hideout couple hours and we back, too much money out here to be anything less than paid. you know me, i keep the dough pildin', nice and neat, low key, i'm lounging, we turned up in the street you get found in, same spot you was tryna wild out in, big hammer to waist, that's how i gotta move, if it ain't the three-fifty, it's a knife or a tool, for niggas thinking they smooth, what i'm supposed to do?, i attack motherfuckers who stunt, it's not cool. kids, don't try this at home, it's nothin' to play with, enjoy your young life, don't fuck with them gauges, cause these shits blow off tops, destroy families. see, niggas get shot ayday b, it's don't fuck with plated numbers, ever play me, get your money, my pockets is real cakey, my life is real crazy, but i wouldn't trade it, na, you couldn't make me, get this paper up, it's the only way, we gon' eat food, have a place to stay, you tell me 'how the fuck is you gon' make it?! ', if you starve, then you're cold and your ass is butt-naked, you see, you know me, i keep the dough pildin', nice and neat, low key, i'm lounging, we turned up in the street you get found in, same spot you was tryna wild out in.