No need for Lato's, pure straight out Bolivia   Peru, uncut baby, what?      Life is a struggle, that's why niggas I know stay on the juggle   Some hustle to double, others hug you to mug you   Poverty-stricken, they even turn a church kid into stickin   It seems sickenin, but what? Whatever makes the pockets thickin   Fuck police and no remorse for the beasts   that's lost on the streets, that pistol whip a priest for a crosspiece   Some lost sheep, runnin thru strips, thinkin of top dealers   Fillin Tek clips, wit 'cop killers' that could stop gorillas   Shovin a stubnose in buttholes, I'm nutso   skitzo, clepto, killin shit up throughout the metro   My thug essence will always keep me plugged with drug investments   Sketch my reference, takin papers considered preference   And violations will lead to kidnappin, decapitation   So what you're facin, is realism that's in activation   Livin off land with five honeys playin my hand   Me and fam, sippin off Guinness stout and eatin clams   It's all part of plans, a vet chillin in Tamps, West and Stans   Outta state connect, slugs, sex, drugs and grands      Hook:      What? For my Height niggas (Uncut)   Trife niggas (Raw), 25-to-life niggas      This is as, pure as opium, purified for street players to open em   space, like three els laced with coke in em   Shots awoken em, fake uniform takes the portion of   six trips, to young clips and killers coachin em   However though, fake ass niggas'll never know   Cos my method's perfected, I'm movin sceptic and never show   I'm soon to blow, stack doe, lay on the low   While I'm sippin Cristal, I mess with Long Island and Moe   A part of nature, me wan' acres in Jamaica   Puffin exotic trees without seeds rolled up in leaf paper   So exhale, cos if I don't live to tell   then fuck it, if well, I'll see the rest of y'all niggas in hell      Hook      So all my good fellas, heroin, coke and weed sellers   What the fuck cats can tell us if they ain't got bread to bail us?   Happy to survive, I haven't seen it all, Peter pay Paul   >From the connivers to the livest, they crack fool   It's all war, the streets are filled up with guns galore   Plenty young for war, gettin their minds flunked and sore   Yo dun, cock the 4.....      Motherfuckers think we're playin, back em down   Holdin niggas for high stitches, what? What?