[Verse 1: Vince Staples]
I done beat the brakes off n***as, shot the face off n***as
Pending case with the state, and I'm still out trippin'
All the feds take pictures, fuckin' up my image
Even mama bringin' drama, I don't trust no bitches
See these hoes be out here switching their sides
When its time for the killin' i ride
Look right in my eyes, been ready to die
Risk felony time for threatening mine, better than I, nobody alive
Nobody live the life that I did, fighting to live since I was kid
Playing in the yard with a 30-06
House look like a gun range, room look like a gun store
Either you're gonna know my name, or n***as dying young and poor
Either way don't give a fuck, you gon' find me northbound
With the shit, I'm in the shit, you know I love them gun sounds
7's cry, macs applaud, they taking shots, I had to call
You catch 'em out the shot gun, that's Roddy White from 50 yards
No body shots, I'm hitting jaws
Tryna run you Stephen Hawking
You see I mean this shit I'm talking, you don't want no problem

[Hook: Vince Staples]
Slave to the rhythm, shoot my master in his back
Two dope boys, in the Cadillac strapped
Wood grain dash, windshield stained glass
Beatin' down the ave, like we back sellin' crack
Killin' for the karma, but livin' for my mama
Trouble what the call us, and nothing what they offer
Off 'em, and they wonder why n***as get shot
And they wonder why n***as shot
[Verse 2: Vince Staples]
Where you at, where you from? Cause it's hot where I'm at
Any time of the day you get robbed or get jumped
It’s a game that we play, to get paid
For the wants and the needs of the young
Snakes slide through the grass
Blades slide in the back of the used and abused
Tryna walk in my shoes
Get tripped by my fuse, too short
Ask God what you want, he said I want your life
Well I ain't live mines right
But if I do the crime then I do the time
I ain't scared of shit, I was born to die
Extended clip, big .45, been quick to trip
And been lost my mind, when I die, please don't let mama cry
Cause she know it had to be him or I, and I got caught slippin'
Get a gun and go knock that n***a
Run up on him, no mask, no feelings, no room for that
They shoot at us, then we shootin' back
Burnin' shells till I burn in hell
And I'm cool with that, that uzi packed
I done learned a lot in these 19 years
Lotta homies ain't shed one tear
God decide what my curfew is
So till the day, I'mma do my shit
I proved my shit, they know my name
Not proud of the outcome, either have regrets or
Be out young, don't sleep
[Hook: Vince Staples]
Slave to the rhythm, shoot my master in his back
Two dope boys, in the Cadillac strapped
Wood grain dash, windshield stained glass
Beatin' down the ave, like we back sellin' crack
Killin' for the karma, but livin' for my mama
Trouble what the call us, and nothing what they offer
Off 'em, and they wonder why n***as get shot
And they wonder why n***as shot

[Verse 3: ScHoolboy Q]
I took tHe blue pill and its evidence was sHown
Homies from elementary some tHem n***as gone
I got tHis cocaine but my stove ain't turning on
I got tHat knock-knock, uh, yeaH you know
Riding in tHe wHip for sure, no Ls in tHe wHip for sure
All tHe Homies strapped but it ain't for sHow
Tryna Hit a lick, no envelope
N***a, weed ain't tHe only tHing get smoked
Cuz got gHost 'fore He even got gHost
Cuz got toast and He ain't old enougH to drink
SHouldn't been singing, now His ass Murder Inc
Sunny LA, wHere we never need a mink
Sunny LA, wHere tHe youngins don't tHink
Sunny LA, wHere tHe Heat get sprayed
And every otHer word on tHe wall get K'ed
All the Homies Hanging in your parking space
THis my set, I ain't Hearing wHatcha say
Back tHen Had to be in by 10 but out by 12
Mom made it safe to work, I got tHe text on tHe cell
Back witH tHe Locs all raising Hell, found out tHe Homie in a cell
I know He Hated school, but it's better tHan jail
Gotta tHank God I was saved by tHe bell
Tryna spit bars, I ain't trying to live beHind 'em
So I keep my face Here rigHt wHen I find tHem
N***a my rawness fuck tHrougH a condom
Ready wHen I'm rapping, no wonder wHy tHey signed Him
Done witH the House licks, so wHatcha still pining
Dead by tHe street ligHts, boy you sHining
Talk about you grinding
Figg side!