Bloodline Songtext

[Verse 1] 

The streets make the hustlas 

Hustlas make the world go round 

The world is made of keys, ounces and pounds 

The keys, ounces and pounds is made from hustlas 

See how shit come back round for ya 

Gotta cop it, chop it and cook it 

See how shit come back round for ya 

Gotta kick in the oven now watch it bubble 

And you can knock on my door 

But you can’t knock the hustle 

But I- it’s like a game of twenty-one and I got nineteen 

And my Jake but I put more ‘d’ on me 

Lil Weezy Wee gon eat that’s how it is 

Got insurance on the floor man I’m that positive 

And I’m shaggy in the saggy lens 

Me an my squad in the paddy wagon tally Benz 

And you know I put the mags on that 

.45 mack with the flash on that 

Who want it 

Everybody sing along

[Hook x2] 

Now I’ma ride cuz I got riding in my bloodline 

And I’ma shine cuz I got shining in my bloodline 

I get that dough cuz I got hustle in my bloodline 

I bleed concrete

[Verse 2] 

And when I move, I move out with the raw 

I move out with the squad 

To his album we ride we so mob 

I throw lives and lowest to live 

For my loaf of bread the people’s player 

I did what the culture said 

And I live by the coast of Nostre Cid 

Fuck around I’ll knock your shoulder from your head 

Get it right I’m a soldier till I’m dead 

This kid is white with buttonholes inside that bled 

I’m pumping o’s with lots of hay 

I’m so high and really I don’t even know why 

And oh I just go buy a whole house 

And lay my mat down lay her back down 

But I never put my mack down 

You see the thug in me 

You know Weezy he the young son of Bubba-B 

Buy my basketball shorts with a thunder B 

If you want it then come to me 

I’m right here 

[Hook x2]

[Verse 3] 

I’m G’d up 

Only follow the code of the streets 

Live bad to die good 

Know how to move when hustling by the days with no food 

But just so I can eat 

And ain’t it a bitch 

And if you see me getting fat I’m probably getting rich 

And you probably can see me for some crack before six 

And after that it’s all bricks 

A fake and my palm is wrapped around this eight 

And my arm because the dirty south is straight Vietnam 

I skate with the bomb 

I’m asking you don’t play with me at all 

Shots hit your ass and make three of y’all 

It’ll take three of y’all to fill one of my shoeprints 

Cuz I did and do shit that’s better than new shit 

Fit for two clips 

The kid is a nuisance 

Awww man, he’s inspired by his own gangsta music 

And the Blueprint 

Cruising through stoop with the ewe lit 

like ooh shit this is more than weed, it’s 500 Degreez

[Hook x2]

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