Street Sense (feat. Cousin Fik & Choose Up Cheese)

I got street sense; wouldn't pay a bitch three cents

Strapped, yeah, I play defense 'cause I got street sense

In the hood on some G shit

Where everybody pay cheap rent

Better have street sense, street sense

Street sense, street sense

Street sense, street sense

Out here you ain't gonna be shit if you ain't got street sense

My rubber bands is conceited, my pistol don't like nobody

My bullets ain't got no names

Keep a stick but I don't play hockey

I move with movers and shakers, they're serious about their paper

They loyal, they not no traitors

They'll shut you down like a breaker (UH!)

Better not get out of line

Check a hoe like a Nike sign

Ghetto pass'll never decline

Ghetto pass'll never decline; check a hoe like a Nike sign

I'd pull a sofa up in the middle of Magazine Street and recline

Never drop a dime, never tell, never talk

Do the crime, do the time, that's the way I was taught

They'll rob and they'll kill you over some dank

Materialistic shit can be replaced but lives cain't

I try to talk to the youngsters, play my position

Give them O.G. game and wisdom but none of 'em wanna listen

Just a few, and if you gon' grow up to be an O.G. too

You gotta know that sucka shit contagious like the flu

BIATCH!

I got street sense; wouldn't pay a bitch three cents

Strapped, yeah, I play defense 'cause I got street sense

In the hood on some G shit

Where everybody pay cheap rent

Better have street sense, street sense

Street sense, street sense

Street sense, street sense

Out here you ain't gonna be shit if you ain't got street sense

Real got strippers on the bed, they taking naps

Hand on the pack, other hand on the strap

Just to wake up to some money in the trap

And go hop in the box Chevy with the slap, ay

And we don't slap five, we give dap

I can get you hit with a finger snap (Like that)

If you ask me favorite out all my hats

I'd probably have to say my thinking cap

Hand is on my lap in case I gotta blast

And I keep at least a half a tank of gas

Cannabis card on me but my grass is in a turkey bag

Finna keep it real, I'd probably cop a new Prius before a Jag

'Cause I'm all about the cash, man, muhfuck some swag

Hoe, I got class, that ain't got a price tag

Say he looking for a lick 'cause he need some bread bad

I'mma fall back, automatic red flag

I got street sense; wouldn't pay a bitch three cents

Strapped, yeah, I play defense 'cause I got street sense

In the hood on some G shit

Where everybody pay cheap rent

Better have street sense, street sense

Street sense, street sense

Street sense, street sense

Out here you ain't gonna be shit if you ain't got street sense

Street sale spots all looking like The Wire

Riding with the hammer even though I got priors

Choose Up Cheese on the plug, baby, shoutout to my buyers

Bitches call me Kevin Gates, nigga, I don't get tired

In the streets every day wishing that I had a helmet

I don't know who I could trust, it seem like everybody selfish

Nigga play me close, I swear to God he getting melted

The homie, he a shooter, he got bodies, man, he careless

Got a old soul, man, my game from the '80s

You can't get three cent, everything is on the ladies

She went and bought a Beamer, she bought me a Mercedes

All I know is money and I get it on the daily

All I scream is 'Pay me,' cash is the motto

And if you ain't got it then a nigga on the throttle

I got too much street sense and I was laced from the womb

A step ahead of the game, can't pull a jack move