S.o.f. Lyrics

[Verse 1]
This the belly of the beast, don't get tossed in
The foundation got me on.... And i ain't been off since
Life and good p*ssy, two things that i get lost in
All my hoes look forward to the d like playin' offense
Big faces, stack 'em to the perfect height
Bitches? Only attracted to a certain type
Man, i'm urgin' these labels to get they money right...
'Cuz in my particular case i'm really worth the hype
I never lose, so how you plan to get a dub (win) off me?
Bought my haters drinks
The only way they'll get a buzz off me
I'm gettin' money... And it's tax free
My whole team ballin'... But we aint athletes
T.f.2... It's back to doin' numbers, check the stat sheet
Hottest nigga rappin', well, thats only if you ask me
Street nigga with intellect... Rarely show my 'hood side
If the feds takin' pictures, i just pray they get my good side

[hook]
Eyes so low... 'Cuz we so high
Money over bitches is what we go by
If it something that we want, (then) we go buy
Pour the gasoline out and light the streets on fire
We got the streets on fire
We got the streets on fire
All these niggas know we got the streets on fire Streets on fire, streets on fire
Streets on fire, streets on fire
All these bitches know we got the streets on fire
We got the streets on....

[verse 2]
(okay) 'ye said it best, it's so hard not to act reckless
If you don't think i run the city, check my track record
Ya new shit ain't even f*ckin' with my last record
You would think im on e the way i gas records
Safe to say we in the lead... Shout out to the runner up
And you ain't gotta like us, just know the money does
They tellin' me i'm killin' shit
But i don't feel i done enough
I can't complain though, 'cuz shit is on the up and up
(yup) but as far as all the rest goes?
I can't even call it like i ain't got on my ref clothes
Get money, kill rappers... Blaze, blaze
Basically go hard, so i can shit on all my ex hoes
The flyest whips get test drove
If i like the shit then i buy the shit
All i rock is that designer shit
If she bad as f*ck, then i'll probably hit
I remember them hard, them hard times
In that lunch room with them dimes and nicks
Now i'm coppin' all kinda shit
Bookin' flights for a climate

[hook]

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