Ar-Ab - Mud freestyle lyrics

I've got a story that I'd like to tell About young goon who spent half his life in jail He got shot, he lost his mom, his life was hell He got rich off a pot, bu*ter knife and scale This promethazine is giving me a toothache The coke jumping out the pot, I need 2 plates It's a drought, I charge 12 for 2 eight She gotta go if she don't f** after 2 dates They caught me at the light, like BIG and Pac Now I can't leave a crib, without 60 shots You wanna try it before you buy it - lets hit the spot But this a whole brick, you gonna need a bigger pot I had 5 drug cases but I spanked 4 Now watch me run through this brick like Frank Gore I call my plug up, and tell him bring 4 Then I kidnap his kids and tell him bring more I was taught to look rich, but think poor And never trust a b**h, that ain't yours I learned, you don't need a scale when you sell them whole When the cops ask you questions you tell them no It's the facts of life, drought time tax the price I have n***as land on your crib like a satellite They say Ab - you too violent, you ain't rappin' right But I can re-rock a brick, and I can wrap it right To get money, it's a lot of sh** you sacrifice This popcorn will bring a dead block back to life And I ain't going back to jail, I put a hit on him I tell K shoot him in his face, then spit on him This pro meth got me stuck in first gear I came home from jail, I was broke my first year My mom gave me applications - work where? Man, I walked outside and put work there I had a dream I had a red phantom But in real life, trying to duck fed cameras I know some broke n***as that k** for a bread sandwich Rape your girl then beat her with a sledgehammer I'm in the strip club, a 100 bottles, bought them out Last time I made it rain, the b**h bought a house You get a work back, threw him if he short an ounce So when you cook up, you never dupe the water out I hope Allah shine light on my mom grave I wish I knew a way, I can take my mam place Remember when I left coke, on my mom plate And then she kick me out, that was not eight (?) I've got a lot of broke dreams, that I can't fix I know a lot of coke fiends, so I became rich We sell the same drug, but we ain't got the same flip We got the same gun, but we ain't got a same clip I'll pine a lean, and you sippin' on the same zip She ate the gun, then kiss you with the same lips I'm down Mexico, talkin' bout distribution I took a hundred gram loss, and I just be cupin' They shot me ten times, they must be stupid I hope their kids catch aids, and die from lupus I'm the type to shoot my gun if I hear noise This baked soda got my pockets on steroids I've done some f**ed up sh**, I got no regrets What they sayin' in their raps, they ain't show me yet Heard they say I just rap, they don't know me yet I'm gonna make them pay homage, cause they owe me that!