Project Steps
Popularity ยท Low
Listen
YouTube
0:00 / 0:00
Loading YouTube player...
Lyrics offset
Synced
Lyrics
Old habits die hard, huh?
Disrespect will not be disregarded, partna
You cross that line, I'm goin' off 'bout mine
Man, woman, and child
No exception, homeboy, no disrespect will be tolerated, man
Come hell or high water, you understand that, you bitch?
Bankroll mafia, hustle gang over everything, nigga
I got fake bitches on my timeline, and
Sucker niggas in my rearview
Wonder why I'm even wastin' my time
Even replyin' to let you know I don't feel you
Fuck 'em, dodgin' nothin' but a fed case
Better know it, tired of holdin' onto dead weight
Gon' let it go, it ain't no turnin' 'round, lookin' back
I swear to God I'ma drop it just like cookie crack
And sell it hard, I'm a Bankhead nigga to the heart
With some tone tools on the boulevard
And some young niggas in a stolen car
With expensive ambition and exquisite pistols, we showin' off
Cross that line and we goin' off
In Lenox Mall, give a damn who you go and call
You violatin', we ain't lettin' nothin' go at all
We demonstratin', leave your brains on the fuckin' wall
Pussy, you disrespectful, nigga, got that?
I ain't never been shot at and I ain't shot back
Bossed up in a cool whip with a hot gat
And still got stabbed from back in, what you know about that?
I'm just a project nigga on the front step
And gettin' money is the concept
By any means in the belt where the gun kept
I let that whole clip ride 'til ain't one left in it
Try me, I'ma handle my business
Handle my business, try me
I'ma handle my business, try me
I'ma handle my business, try me
I got fake bitches on my timeline, and
Hatin' niggas in my rearview
I got naked bitches in the high-rise
On the balcony so they can get a clear view
Of the city with my dick up in it
Bet in the mornin' won't remember which bitch is it
Shit, hey I'm too rich for this shit
But I'm too real to be tried, nigga
Goin' get me, that's just like go and get God
And I ain't gotta make excuses, why?
I don't fuck with whoever, what you wanna do about it?
Thought not, fuck around, get crossed out
And caught slippin', roll down on your ass, .45 start spittin'
Gon' be a long day, nigga, I start trippin'
Don't be stickin' to the script, drive-by audition
What's up? What you do for dough, guess you doin' too slow
And by the looks of your stuff, you ain't doin' enough
I'm poppin' wheelies in the front, leavin' you in the dust
Kick in your door masked up like, "Who in the fuck?"
Boy, you's a whole ho, not just a lil' piece of pussy
Better watch your ass talkin', you don't know me, nigga, hold up
I'm just a project nigga on the front step
And gettin' money is the concept
By any means in the belt where the gun kept
I let that whole clip ride 'til ain't one left in it
Try me, I'ma handle my business
Handle my business, try me
I'ma handle my business, try me
I'ma handle my business, try me
All I wanna do is go and chill
Take my mind off the ones I wanna go and kill
And yeah, I'm a daddy, love my lil' girls
But I'll still check a bitch like Pac did Lauryn Hill
Hey, I ain't grow into it, I was born real
Used to sell crack to the children of the corn
I'm the reason why your mama warned you
Pray you don't die 'fore you make it to the street corner
Nigga, who am I?
I'm just a project nigga on the front step
And gettin' money is the concept
By any means in the belt where the gun kept
I let that whole clip ride 'til ain't one left in it
Try me, I'ma handle my business
Handle my business, try me
I'ma handle my business, try me
I'ma handle my business, try me