Drought Season

[Verse 1: Ampichino] Keep a nine under my armpit I stay high Plus I'm flyer than dog shit Me, Berner, and jack stay on that mob shit It's drought season you gotta cop from a convict Hit your block with a 30 clip Set up up shop pumping hot we move 30 bricks Since my whip ain't come with no top on it All of a sudden my nuts they wanna hop on 'em I got bars the cops swarming the block hot The spot brought I get sideways with a cop watching Top shotters, we kill niggas for nothing You faggots got rich while trill niggas was struggling Flatfoot hustling Try and stack this paper up We weighing duffles while you niggas catching papercuts We chasing cheese while you broad chasing If your hoe stare at me too long shes stargazing [Verse 2: The Jacka] Jetskis for memorial No keys when the car come on Blow trees we don't buy cologne I'm at the [?] game ? It's purple dope in my styrofoam [?] Pigs hoping that i got the bullet Cuz they can't prove that i gunned you down Now you could be chilling with us Got you ready to be killing niggas Four niggas they in the building Four-zero we ain't got em with us Ship 'em up, move 'em out to Texas I got your love eating dick for breakfast I ain't steal no chain if i [?] the necklace I'm [?] I get dressed for hecklers We selling crack and our cake's expensive Death is the only way out the business Never heard of Jack then you not the business Yes I'm in the mob you could not pretend this I try to end [?] to begin with Fuck over the J same deal with the change clip Try to find the way while I'm on the cocaine shit Spill a nigga brain then I hop on the plane quick What can we say cuz we came off a slave ship Put you in a grave I'll be everyone's favorite Real niggas pray to God that we make it And real broads wanna stand in front of us naked Berner I started out with coke I got warehouses Strippers butt naked doing powder on my leather couches More death, more yellow flowers More murder more killers imma keep around us My name ringing with them out of towners Brooklyn NY I'm running through a hundred sours Money counters and stripper shoes Wrap twenty pounds and ship em too Feds on our line so we pray that we get em through Ask your plug what he listen to Purple in my white cup Light green smoke but my pills are blue Yellow got me itching too Yelling at my prostitute Hand on my 40cal Weight I got a lot to move I can see it in her eyes she about to choose New benz LEDs aqua blue I'm nodding off from this good Joe Blow talk to 'em if you would Mob shit [Verse 3: Joe Blow] Rolling cookies on a cookies tray In a cookies tee and I'm cooking yay Everyday touring go book a date Rest in Peace Jack, Pretty Black, and Tre Realest niggas coming out the reason You need blow and its drought season Gun you down quick without a reason I'll pull up and bounce out squeezin' Chopping up with my old man' While I'm chopping up coke grams Take 29 for this old man But need 35 for that snowman In my backwood i need four grams Choosing fee at least four grand Bitch get with me and my program Do the money dance when that hoe payin' Quick hundred grand if that blow land I'm the man in France up to Spokane KC back to Ak' back to Oakland They always want to know what I'm smoking That exclusive shit or I use to trip Coke drank hold the stupid drip Little stupid bitch I'm a ruthless pimp You gon' hit the blade work the next strip So high being it don't ask nothing Anything to keep cash coming When its drought season imma last something I done killed the game these few last summers Me and Lance the new splash brothers Rest in peace to the fast gunner Johnny cash i need a lot of cash Cuz I'd rather die before I had nothing