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3501 woodward - skilla baby lyrics

[intro]
huh?
detroit raised me
detroit, let me walk you through my city
huh?

[verse]
i used to live in section 8 housing with my pops
my hood was the gun range, i’m used to hearing shots
lost a couple of my close friends to this sh*t
neck froze, heart cold, head still hot
judge talkin’ ’bout my music in the court room
he don’t wanna see me pop, he wanna see me rot
earned everything i got, wasn’t born with a lot
dwayne johnson in the pot, hit a head with the rock
tore the baking soda ’til it lock, open up the shop
i ain’t seen n0body on the corner with me, ronnie lott
f*ck i look like beefin’ with a papa doc?
i could not f*ck with no b*tch that’s out hеre givin’ lame n*ggas tw*t
bond no. 9 mixed with prada and thе baccarat
i bring extra luggage on the flight ’cause i shop a lot
when my young n*gga see an opp, he tryna pop his top
we gon’ keep the trap doors swingin’ ’til the block get hot
i can have a hundred ‘bows pull up ‘fore a blunt get rolled
wrist baptized and my neck dunked in gold
broke all the ‘bows down to zips, this an onion roll
if i don’t make at least fifteen hundred, i ain’t comin’ home
i need a pretty*ass b*tch that accept my flaws
i been puttin’ in work, i’m goin’ extra hard
i like hand*in*hands, i don’t really f with fraud
still can’t believe they stretched my dog
still can’t believe my life lookin’ make*believe
knew how to make some cheese ‘fore i knew my abcs
brodie in that n*gga bush tryna bake his beans
did amiri all year, i’m finna play celine
they gon’ really blitz n*ggas if i say it’s green
i don’t waste my words, everything i say, i mean
i be fresh as h*ll, all the b*tches say i’m clean
i know some old n*ggas that’ll k!ll a brick for me
how i make the ‘bow money look like brick money
all i know is get money even with my eyes closed
man, these n*ggas givin’ fake pressure like a rhinestone
n*gga, i could sell a hundred ‘bows with a blindfold (huh?)
i ain’t gon’ lie, my mind gone, i’m kinda zoned out
i got a lot of money, i don’t need no clout
i got a whole route
young n*gga made two hundred in a whole drought
i cannot fake this sh*t
i cannot make this up
i know the b*tches love me, these n*ggas hate my guts
my drac’ll leave a n*gga flat, you gotta scr*pe him up
sold so many boxes for my plug, that n*gga gave me one
i don’t know how to love b*tches, never gave me love
my mama raised a good man, i’m tryna raise me one
i never be havin’ no time, i’m tryna save me some
i was raised by a good man and an amazing woman, huh?
and me, my mommy, and my sister, they taught me how to love
took ’em twenty years, but they finally acceptin’ that i’m a thug
family members wanna be around me ’cause i got a buzz
where was y’all at when i was stealin’, i was robbin’?
when i was hungry, gettin’ fired from them jobs, man, i had to rob
n*ggas played it crazy, i ain’t stress, i left it up to god
worth enough to put cheese on his head like i’m randall cobb
money over b*tches, i be with the mob, huh?

- skilla baby lyrics

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