Sour Hour

[Verse 1] Uh sick Young nigga from the illest block, them harlem niggas get it poppin' that's the realest drop Mourning my nigga Fred, dour doobies getting lit, sipping 'gnac to the head That was my man, I told him wait til I get to this bread Took one to the head, fuck, I never see him again Inhale the reefer harder I was raised up hard, but you can see and feel my aura The streets is a mess nigga I'm blessed to even see tomorrow So Killa this one is for you, keep your spirit around I got a lot of living to do See I gotta feed my kids and em' too, lot a load to cop, shows to rock, and hoes to screw [Hook] This is my sour hour marathon (echo) Uh, they bullshit, babble on Less talking, more smoking, carry on [3 times] [Verse 2] Uh, Right Smoke up, I hope you bring your lungs with you Shorty I ain't tripping, your friend she can come with you Just bring some papers, she sending me flicks of her tits, with smiley faces She dig my rugby flavors, before them other niggas did it You think I was a player? RLFC Yeah a lot of niggas jack, I think it's quite foul They follow the trend, but for me, it's my lifestyle Anytime you see me, it's a fresh one Adidas, raw labels, or some foam posits, check him Green house sour got my higher than a Jetson, Spacely, Sprocket You smoke pinheads, we smoke rockets Lame niggas still smoking up the profit in your packs Lawsuit blew it done fucked up all the scratch What you running when your hamstring popped? I shitted on you niggas now it's back to the pot [Hook]x2