you niggas,can't handle this smoke,

you fraud ass niggas,can't hold me back,always,coming around hating on my tracks, trying to stunt and front on my style, I just lookup and thank God for that,were would I be if I didn't have hater on my team,were would I be if I didn't have haters out here in these streets,steady coming at me,how could I stay on my toes,stand ten feet tall,when all the hating and talking done,when all the smoke clear,and you haters gone,im still going to do me,I'm still out here trying to my paper change out of ten cent,who gives a damn if you don't fuckin like me,im still on my grind,trying to climb the ladder,straight up to the top,were im never,never,ever,ever,going to come down,were you haters can't touch me with a ten foot pole,if you niggas,can't see steady grinding and shining on my grind laying these tracks,just like my whole fuckin life depends on it,leaving all you haters and fuck niggas so,so,far behind,you niggas is just like a distant memory,that I can't ever,ever, for get,I so much on my mind,so much hate,far pass,memory, if you next in line just all these haters standin around me,just take a ticket, and just get in line if you muthfuckers,just want a piece of me,out here in these ghettos streets, you niggas,can't handle this smoke cause I always keep that thing on me,it better to be caught carrying about a hundred rounds on me,then to be carry by 12niggas,who barely even know,that why I carry it in bed even when I lay down to sleep,I keep praying toGod,that give me a piece of mind,and a soundless,so I want lose my mind to these heartless streets, like I said you niggas,can't handle this smoke,I always got that thing on me,even when I'm in the shop just like a chefs cooking up baby,to sale to all my rap feins,everybody got to have some kind of dream,