Conflicted

If God for me, who could be against me?

I guess all them niggas that's against me

They the ones stirrin' up the conflict

Then try to make it out like I'm conflicted

Bitches

East Coast niggas in six-fours hittin' switches (shit)

It's not a conflict of interest

Cuh, them niggas with the business

West Coast niggas rockin' them Timberlands deep up in them trenches

It's no different

Neither one play games when swingin' for them fences

We want the finer things, the shit that's expensive

The shit that hit 'em either close range or at a distance

If God for me, nigga, why bother?

I got my game from the Godfather (woof)

Top of the food chain, rock bottom

And handled my business when it was my problem

G shit, nigga flossin' with a gold chain

I got my Turkish rope with matchin' gold fangs

Bomber jacker in the winter, it's a cold game

I met some East Coast niggas up in Spokane (what up?)

Some of the realest niggas in this dope game

I got my curly top, lookin' like Special Ed

Clean fade on the side, bumpin' that redhead

Clean tags when I ride, duckin' the fed-feds

East Coast niggas, they get that bread-bread

You fuck with them niggas, you end up dead-dead

Them West Coast niggas, they leave that lead spread

And now you got bullets all in your dread head

If God for me, who could be against me?

I guess all them niggas that's against me

They the ones stirrin' up the conflict

Then try to make it out like I'm conflicted

Bitches

Still tryna fuck the riches

East Coast niggas in six-fours hittin' switches (shit)

It's not a conflict of interest

Cuh, them niggas with the business

West Coast niggas rockin' them Timberlands deep up in them trenches

It's no difference

Fourth and inches

I'm finna hit a lick and handle business

I got a down bitch, she real vicious

Rock-a-bye baby, no witness

This is not even a conflict

You niggas on nonsense

Niggas die the same way in Brooklyn and Compton

But niggas with that gang-gang, them niggas make a profit

Niggas on top, niggas stay poppin'

Look, see, I was the high school Slick Rick, I was stylin'

Fat gold chain with an African medallion

Hip-hop connoisseur and Rollin' 20 Crippin'

Rap game real tight, freestyle was magnificent (what?)

All about the clout and all about my dividends

Them older niggas couldn't tell me different

I need a 'round the way girl to let me stick it in

Showtime at the Apollo

I'm drinking OE up out the bottle

Take two swigs and pour out a little liquor for my niggas who won't live to see tomorrow

If God for me, who could be against me?

I guess all them niggas that's against me

They the ones stirrin' up the conflict

Then try to make it out like I'm conflicted (conflicted)