Anticipation

[Chorus] R.I.P. to my niggas that's dead and gone Standin here blowed I dedicate this song R.I.P. to my niggas that's dead and gone Standin here blowed I dedicate this song To my niggas in the grave and my niggas in the pen Much love for you fools, see you when I get in To my niggas in the grave and my niggas in the pen Much love for you fools, see you when I get in Come follow me now, and let me kick that old school flow All my Gs who got popped or else dropped by a .44 Tryna make ends, roll in Benz and stay tight Get high with the crew, dick one or two down tonight And stay true to the game, make yo cash the dash But 5-0s and jackers all over yo ass So niggas stay woke, don't ever sleep when you creep Cuz nowadays they pack AKs and shit's gettin deep Bustin bustin biggedy bustas keep yo pockets on fat And to my homies who rest, every night I look back And say "Damn, now why did my niggas have to die?" To ease the pain I don't cry, I fire that potent fry And reminisce my life, I mean the whole 20 years Cuz over the days, crime has paid for many of my peers Some died from car wrecks, and Tecs to the necks I know my mother anticipate - now will her son be next? [Chorus] Funky funerals, sixty cars with lights and one cop Rollin slow behind a hearse block to block And uh, I couldn't make it, I was feelin worse To show my love for cuz, I pour some sip to the curse We had tight times, we even had lose times Sharin a brew, smokin a few, flashin up the deuce sign Rollin thick as a bitch, with my whole fuckin click Yep, cut for one another, down to take a nigga's shit Crankin cars, nothing barred, the shit stayed tight Mobbin forty ounce, slobbin nearly every night Much goes to those, I'm givin it up, I mean my props From Charlie Brown to Shawn Miles and to my steppops I got nothing for love and it's gettin strong I keep my head up even when the shit's goin wrong And ain't no use to me puttin out my fry Sometimes I anticipate - now will I be the next to die? [Chorus] And now it's 93, and shit's still illegal So I gave in my Tec for a .44 Desert Eagle Still got memories of my homies in the past So I look high and ask the Lord if I last And if not, when I drop six feet deep Put a forty in my lap and in my mouth a swisher sweet And let the dead rest, and then close my eyes And if my niggas ain't there, then I just might rise And bust a couple of caps the spirits from hell See, a nigga might be dead but I got dope to sell So niggas don't forget for y'all to bring the fry Cuz everyone'll cry and say "Damn - this nigga had to die"