I'm cleaning house like some chores,, ask me for war, pop on the ‘flage like a veteran

Wear camouflage like a veteran

They wear the L like a Letterman

Grinding I'm grinding, I vow I will never retire from late nights like Letterman

Nicknaaaamed me cul-de-sac because I

Catch em in dead ends then box their ass in like some Entenmann's

Look at the buzz that the white boy be catching, catching them numbers like Julian Edelman (woo)

Started the hustle in Summer 10

Most yall kids was in summer camp

I am too high up on all y'all gonna need you a bigger ramp

Was that over your heads

Are we playing monkey in middle man

I'm going dark on you bitches

Turned back the clock on you bitches

Crashed then bounced back

Went we Are Marshall on you bitches

Purple heart bars for you bitches

I'll go to war with you bitches

Leaving em all dead inside, install a coffin within em

Bridge

Chorus Oh oh oh

I hit em close range like a finger roll, easy lay (oh boy)

Stack my chips like Lay's or frito lay

Raised in the jungle head lay where cheetahs lay

I stay

Above number 2 where the last name Jeter stay

Excuse my French but mu fucka s’il vous plait (mu fucka please!)

I'm ballin yall not, like we playing keep away

Rhyme til out of breath blue like Skeeter face

Don't make me go and pull the piece out 'al vee der zane

Shooting the shit

I'm too clutch in the end

Like Augustus Gloop up in the chute

Ain't no room for you up in this bitch

My hard drive now got me uber rich

I'm sick as news that the tumors spread

I used to say that I'd kill for some Nikes

Til I realize that I do it best

Skin be the color of 2 percent

Milk, but the furthest from spoiled and I mean that shit in the truest sense

Tasting the fame, yet, i remain hungry as Budapest

Friends from back home tell me you the tits Like Hooters bitches who serving me chicken and beer to refuel me cuz

This life that I'm living gets Ludacris

Who is this? (1)

Tycho

I turn

L’s to a typo

I go

Chung-Li and Ryu

Quick to turn streets to a game of Street fighter, my god

This is the type of shit I'm on

This what I spent every night on

Ever since I was a kid sneaking flashlights and pens in to write when my momma said lights out

Now watch as I drive on, the road to the riches with brights on

Literally out of sight so

You cannot tell where Lil Tych gon’

Chorus

I hit em close range like a finger roll, easy lay

Stack my Chips like Lay's or frito lay

Raised in the jungle head lay where, cheetahs lay

I stay

Above number 2 where the last name Jeter stay

Excuse my French but mu fucka s’il vous plait (mu fucka please!)

I'm ballin yall not, like we play keep away

Rhyme til out of breath blue like Skeeter face

Don't make me go and pull the piece out 'al vee der zane

X2