No Time, n***a. I ain't waiting for sh** my n***a
(Whuttttt)No Time for the f** sh**
Tell the judge he could s** dick. (f** On!)
(Meech what it look like?)(Tell the judge!)
Verse 1 - Icewear
Yeah, hit my lawyer wit a half brick
Told him if i get some time, n***a hide this
So when a n***a touch down I can grind quick
But if a n***a skip town they won't find sh**
Hit my brother Rick up for a couple dollas (wuddup doe)
Kiss my nephew on the head and I love my mama
Thinking bout my brother Rez I just love to call him
He told me money was the problem and I love to solve em'
See he died in the feds of an aneurysm
Think about him every night, goddamn i miss him
On the flight when G died, I was handlin' bidness
They left my baby by the dishes, blind him in the kitchen
Got a tweet about who did it through @ mention
But that's the devil tryna make me make a bad decision
Shook my head fifty times cuz it had me twisted
I'm gettin bread makin rhymes plus im baggin b**hes
Chorus
I got no time for the f** sh**
Tell the judge he could s** dick
This should don't never really matter making much sense
Came up from the bottom, now I'm up quick
No time for the f** sh** (f** sh**)
Tell the judge he could s** dick
This should dont never really matter making much sense
Came up from the bottom, now I'm up quick
Verse 2 - Icewear
It be the ones closest to ya that'll do ya bad
The same n***as that ya feed and let em move ya bag
They say money make you evil whether good or bad
Fast lane got me speedin ima do that dash
f**ed up how they did my little n***a Scooter
Prolly never wouldve died if he was with some shooters
They say its cold in the D, but its gettin cooler
Bring it to him in his sleep, call me Mr. Crougar
I remember countin' twenty in the SUV
f**in with the homie Smoke, n***a SMB
That's the Seven Mile Bloods, they'll wetcha teeth
Real n***as show me love, yeah they mess wit me
Never let a n***a play me til the d**h of me
Pour some lean and I learned my own recipe
Hit the club fifty deep with the tech with me
I blow a n***a like a whistle from a referee
Chorus
Verse 3- Hardwork Jigg
(Hardwork n***a! Wuddup my n***a Vezzo? Free Smokie)
No question, when it comes to strap they blue glued on
My lil homies make about thirty in the school zone
My OG's keep n***a plugged like a light switch
How you think I came home and bounced back, Mike Vick
b**h I'm from the east, Seven is the Mile
RIP to Perry, I need my n***a now
OT with the yellows, pounds of the reggos
I'm stackin up them green guys, wuddup my n***a Vezzo?
Thirty in the bezzle, thirty in the pump
Styrofoam for the lean, its lookin dirty in my cup
Im an eastside n***a, f**in westside broads
Couple lil n***as wit me stealin westside cars
No time for the f** sh** so Im known to bust sh**
Bust clips and bust scrips and send em on a bus trip
b**h its Hardwork yeah im eastside trippin
28's on the oldies got me tree high sittin mof**a
Chorus