Soul Food

Time to put in work, we all got a job to do

I light a joint, then ask myself "What would Pablo do?"

Coming through with the paper plates like the barbecue

Got the haters shaking heads like the bobbles do

Yeah, but it's all for my family

The goal wasn't live middle class and buy Camrys

I want us all to eat, even if from my pantry

I guess I'm just more soul food than eye candy

I feel like these young niggas need more eye jammies

More passport stamps, less trips to Miami

Yeah bro, we all need a little culture

A little time away from bird ass niggas and vultures

I tell you what you need to hear and not try to insult you

I'm too old to kid you, I gotta adult you

Listen, the shit is getting outta hand

Like fumbles in football, I humbly put y'all

In y'all fucking place, that's my OCD

I give a bitch a little bit, but it's mostly D

I be in the Rolls Royce knocking Ghost CD

That's Supreme Clientele, all I know is Buy and Sell

We had to hustle to eat, it wasn't no Thanksgiving

Pour out a little liquor for homies that ain't living

It's big dinner shit, baby, everybody up in here

Find what you bring to the table

Then pull up a chair, yeah...

You see?

Without hope, it ain't nothing

HA-HAAAEEH!

I like this shit!

You should love it!

(Kill, kill, kill! Kill, kill, kill!)

Uh, let's finish the game, Billy

Do something and stop stalling, that's silly (haha)

The ball over there just drawling, that's Philly (woo!)

Invisible set, F class, that's chilly (mmm)

Life is short, death's fast, that's illy (yep)

When ya whole crew got cash, that's willy (uh)

To everybody living it up, you gotta feel me (yep)

And nah, I ain't giving it up, you gotta kill me (uh)

Whoever you look up to, ask 'em, I'm a real G

As far as this rap shit go, I got realty

Before being signed to a major, I had a real key

And I ain't tryna play you, I'm tryna give you the real me

Almost twenty years in the game, and I'm still me

Niggas fear hearing my name, I got skills, B

The boy, the girl, the weed, I got pills, B

How many other owners you know that's in the field, B (who?)

No license or registration, that's what it still be

Honor's in your pocket, your heart

That's where the will be (yes)

From the hood, cop out, even if not guilty

Rich ain't good enough, nigga, I'm not filthy

I'm hardcore, rough and rugged, I'm not silky

Guns under mattress, money is where the quilt be

(POOF!) This is the last supper here

Last time we break bread, so pull up a chair, yeah...