Ronnie Drake (feat. SZA)

I mean
 I mean, I been thinking
 Nah
 Alright, Rob, this the one, last one, check me out
 You sure?
 So don't call me a nigga, unless you call me "my nigga"
 I'm a king, O.E. be slipping, falling from my chalice, ugh
 Don't mind the bumper that was missing from my carriage, ugh
 It's poorly tinted, but my women not embarrassed
 I came to bury you average, uh, you feel slighted, ayy
 It's like she know that I got it, it feel like it
 Ayy, I real-life it, ayy, I spill vices
 Ayy, you will like it, I promise it's trill vomit, I'm honest
 Nigga, ain't no getting money on that conscious shit
 I'ma just load my gat on some survival shit
 And when I hear they got a drought on it
 I take a month out of rap, and I hustle 'til I'm out of it
 I got that coke flow, ugh, that heat rock
 I got that old school, huddle to the beatbox
 Baby, I'm just digging in your gushy for the sweet spot
 I'ma beat that, 'til that motherfucking beat drop, bitch!
 I got love for my niggas, my killers
 My dealers, my trickers, my bros
 I got love for my sisters, my women
 My bitches, my strippers, my hoes
 I got love for my niggas, my killers
 My dealers, my trickers, my bros
 I got love for my sisters, my women
 My bitches, my strippers, my hoes
 I got love for my niggas (ayy)
 Hope they don't kill you 'cause you Black today
 They only feel you when you pass away
 The eulogy be so moving, we live the scenes of those movies
 Conflict in school or dope moving, it's so youthful
 But if you die today
 I hope you findin' some relief, oh, what a great escape
 We still dodging from polices when we make a plate
 They lying, searching in my bucket with the straightest face
 It could be '88
 Sometimes, I wonder why we killers, why they killing us
 I think we only wear a grill because they grilling us
 Or how they feeling us, gotta look real and tough
 Gotta keep your hands in the cart, know you stealing stuff
 Came a long way from a boat and an auction
 Now, we got names and a vote, then a coffin
 Ain't shit change but the coast we adopted
 Little Black children, you can call me "that nigga," nigga
 I got love for my niggas, my killers
 My dealers, my trickers, my bros
 I got love for my sisters, my women
 My bitches, my strippers, my hoes
 I got love for my niggas, my killers
 My dealers, my trickers, my bros
 I got love for my sisters, my women
 My bitches, my strippers, my hoes
 I got love for my nigga
 
 I mean
 I mean, I been thinking
 Nah
 Alright, Rob, this the one, last one, check me out
 You sure?
 So don't call me a nigga, unless you call me "my nigga"
 I'm a king, O.E. be slipping, falling from my chalice, ugh
 Don't mind the bumper that was missing from my carriage, ugh
 It's poorly tinted, but my women not embarrassed
 I came to bury you average, uh, you feel slighted, ayy
 It's like she know that I got it, it feel like it
 Ayy, I real-life it, ayy, I spill vices
 Ayy, you will like it, I promise it's trill vomit, I'm honest
 Nigga, ain't no getting money on that conscious shit
 I'ma just load my gat on some survival shit
 And when I hear they got a drought on it
 I take a month out of rap, and I hustle 'til I'm out of it
 I got that coke flow, ugh, that heat rock
 I got that old school, huddle to the beatbox
 Baby, I'm just digging in your gushy for the sweet spot
 I'ma beat that, 'til that motherfucking beat drop, bitch!
 I got love for my niggas, my killers
 My dealers, my trickers, my bros
 I got love for my sisters, my women
 My bitches, my strippers, my hoes
 I got love for my niggas, my killers
 My dealers, my trickers, my bros
 I got love for my sisters, my women
 My bitches, my strippers, my hoes
 I got love for my niggas (ayy)
 Hope they don't kill you 'cause you Black today
 They only feel you when you pass away
 The eulogy be so moving, we live the scenes of those movies
 Conflict in school or dope moving, it's so youthful
 But if you die today
 I hope you findin' some relief, oh, what a great escape
 We still dodging from polices when we make a plate
 They lying, searching in my bucket with the straightest face
 It could be '88
 Sometimes, I wonder why we killers, why they killing us
 I think we only wear a grill because they grilling us
 Or how they feeling us, gotta look real and tough
 Gotta keep your hands in the cart, know you stealing stuff
 Came a long way from a boat and an auction
 Now, we got names and a vote, then a coffin
 Ain't shit change but the coast we adopted
 Little Black children, you can call me "that nigga," nigga
 I got love for my niggas, my killers
 My dealers, my trickers, my bros
 I got love for my sisters, my women
 My bitches, my strippers, my hoes
 I got love for my niggas, my killers
 My dealers, my trickers, my bros
 I got love for my sisters, my women
 My bitches, my strippers, my hoes
 I got love for my nigga