Lyrics
Yeah, what, Memphis Bleek, we live, thugged out
Smoked out, yeah, check it out, yo, yo, yo
I'm on now, therefore, you ready rock
Compared to this fishscale bag of rocks
So give me Bill Gates money, a little straight money
Big or small faces, it's been in all places
I was schooled by them older guys
They showed me how to drive V's
Blow weed, chop deuces and hold rugers
Have a nigga rocked up, then knocked up
Play the yard with his chest out gettin' stocked up
We trade war stories back on them streets
When we play the mess hall, niggas dead 'em on his eats
I'm a foul lil' nigga, wild lil' nigga
Dedicated to these streets, this pump valves lil' nigga
You hear about my whereabouts, bitches I don't care about
Money I'm a man about, drama I'ma air it out
Niggas hate Bleek 'cause I live right
You'd love to see me broke frontin', with no chips right
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
But this Bleek life, my young niggas, I tell ya
I went from a failure, holdin' paraphernalia
Weight scales, twelve 12's, dimes and fishscale
Cooked up and bagged up, my life fucked up
But I look at it this way
If I don't make it this way, then I'ma do it this way
Blaze my heat, while I'm after them nickels
Fuck six, I chase nine fuckin' zeros
Digits I got four of 'em, want five more of 'em
Bitches went on tour with 'em, Flash bring more of 'em
I fuck 'em never call 'em, my dough must've spoiled 'em
Nigga blew raw with 'em, but now I'm ignorin' 'em
The street life kept Bleek tight with heat right
On the ten speed herbed up, nigga word up
You saw me, but if not, your man did
I know I pulled gats on y'all for crack shit
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
My niggas roll dice in the back park
We sip Bacardi Dark with Sprite, all night
'Til the sky get bruised or a thug nigga lose
Pull out two-twos, only catch two
Hundred, half the crowd skated with what you wanted
This nigga got shaky and panicked when you fronted
When he saw the black chron I thought the nigga wore a thong
The way he froze his arm, duke said it's on
He stripped to his drawers when he heard one raw
Took off, half-assed when that nigga spit more
And we all spit game, you niggas heard pregame
By Source motherfucker for you lame motherfuckers
I fall, I get back, to test my worth
I tell heads to hit that, it's raw, get rid of that
My workers take thirty off a bundle
Dodgin' the bikers, and the D's when they rush the jungle
So we stash in the fences, sit low on the benches
Keep a small gun in case it's on in the trenches
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
Smoked out, yeah, check it out, yo, yo, yo
I'm on now, therefore, you ready rock
Compared to this fishscale bag of rocks
So give me Bill Gates money, a little straight money
Big or small faces, it's been in all places
I was schooled by them older guys
They showed me how to drive V's
Blow weed, chop deuces and hold rugers
Have a nigga rocked up, then knocked up
Play the yard with his chest out gettin' stocked up
We trade war stories back on them streets
When we play the mess hall, niggas dead 'em on his eats
I'm a foul lil' nigga, wild lil' nigga
Dedicated to these streets, this pump valves lil' nigga
You hear about my whereabouts, bitches I don't care about
Money I'm a man about, drama I'ma air it out
Niggas hate Bleek 'cause I live right
You'd love to see me broke frontin', with no chips right
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
But this Bleek life, my young niggas, I tell ya
I went from a failure, holdin' paraphernalia
Weight scales, twelve 12's, dimes and fishscale
Cooked up and bagged up, my life fucked up
But I look at it this way
If I don't make it this way, then I'ma do it this way
Blaze my heat, while I'm after them nickels
Fuck six, I chase nine fuckin' zeros
Digits I got four of 'em, want five more of 'em
Bitches went on tour with 'em, Flash bring more of 'em
I fuck 'em never call 'em, my dough must've spoiled 'em
Nigga blew raw with 'em, but now I'm ignorin' 'em
The street life kept Bleek tight with heat right
On the ten speed herbed up, nigga word up
You saw me, but if not, your man did
I know I pulled gats on y'all for crack shit
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
My niggas roll dice in the back park
We sip Bacardi Dark with Sprite, all night
'Til the sky get bruised or a thug nigga lose
Pull out two-twos, only catch two
Hundred, half the crowd skated with what you wanted
This nigga got shaky and panicked when you fronted
When he saw the black chron I thought the nigga wore a thong
The way he froze his arm, duke said it's on
He stripped to his drawers when he heard one raw
Took off, half-assed when that nigga spit more
And we all spit game, you niggas heard pregame
By Source motherfucker for you lame motherfuckers
I fall, I get back, to test my worth
I tell heads to hit that, it's raw, get rid of that
My workers take thirty off a bundle
Dodgin' the bikers, and the D's when they rush the jungle
So we stash in the fences, sit low on the benches
Keep a small gun in case it's on in the trenches
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit? (What?)
Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit? (Yeah)
Who wanna hear some real live type shit? (Huh?)
Who remember that old chest out shit? (What?)