in the heart of a re-up, its sumthin like a g-up
M-C-A fingering that b-up or that c-up,
fiends creep up with their flesh lookin beat up,
and my tennis ball is stuffed with enough work to fill a tea cup,
he opened up his jacket, i opened up my packet,
he pulled out his money, i'm pullin out that honey,
he stuff it in his stem* soon as he took it from me,
yellow teeth chaffed lips and his nose is runny,
he lit that shit, he hit that quick,
as if i was high i asked him where them bricks at, shit,
he smiled as if he was payin homege,
he said in the back of the apartment where they be selling ganja,
but beware of the AK held by HM Thomas,
son gotta keep him high in them bottoms or some old pyjamas,
i said shiiit ma nigga take another hit,
we ran up in that crib with them Uzis and them Sigs,
give up the work or we tyin up the kids,
did i get that work? what you think, yes i did,
i didn't, actually that wasnt true and if you aspire to hustle thats a how-to you