Roland Bishop

(Deep down my soul) (Deep down my soul) (Deep down my soul) Where we at with it, H? (Crazy to be) It's the Jack Lord, known for smackin' glass off the backboard At the office with it Quick to chalk a nigga, turn a nigga slab to a blackboard Everything mint like a Altoid, on the Hellblock, me and Fatboy Ten-twenty pints of the Act' in, in the trap, me and Dan Aykroyd Street life what I been livin', gangland, get them bricks missin' Boss Hogg of the pig pen, run with hitmen so it hit different Hundred million on the come-out Niggas know I'll pull this gun out Nigga, no guts, no glory, stretch two-twenty in a four-forty In jail, they asked me if I know Corvin, nah, I ain't into tradin' war stories Mouth closed tight when I got picked up, spent the whole night hoodie zipped up Back on the dyke with my stick tucked, rollin' white like a lint brush Mama pray for me 'cause I been touched, know they waitin' on me to slip up Nigga can't afford another hiccup, moral of the story, keep your lips shut Now it's foreign exchange with the gang, bouncin' out with my wrist bust Nigga still droppin' dirty except this time it's not a piss cup Let's get it I sold drugs to feed my peoples, not party and dangle Then I took some of the proceeds and I started a label Soul of a thug, blood of a creature, the heart of a gangster Pole in my clutch, I never needed no guardian angel (Deep down my soul) In the heart of the manger (Deep down my soul) Double-parkin' that Maybach (Deep down my soul) Still ain't talkin' to strangers New AR with the laser (crazy to be), bitch, quit callin' me crazy Goin' crazy, B When you said that last time I was kinda trippin', like But you know what else? I don't give a f*ck Streets ran a facts check, OG gave me all access Less than half brick, shit, we'll mix a nigga down, add him to the tracklist I'm a wordsmith, favorite words is, "Thank you for your proof of purchase" Yeah, that pussy good for a minute but the money only thing a nigga worship Me and my niggas, we the real deal, we want all the pills still Benz trunk full of green pints, on the Eastside, me and Trill Bill I'm a work horse, no horse play, playin' with the work is my forte White horse walkin' on water, they say Jesus rose on the fourth day Now it's all praise due, all white ice in my Jesus Black Balenciaga space boots stompin' foreign pedals when we race coupes Cheated death with a ace deuce, most niggas in the ghetto can't shoot Eight in my Canadian Dry, turn the cream soda to a grape juice F*ck tryna send a beat pack, give me thirty-two for the whole thing Thirty blues for the jean jacket, Virgil Louis with the rope strings Courtesy of the neighborhood clucks, line layin' bricks on 'em They call me crazy so much, mind playin' tricks on me I sold drugs to feed my peoples, not party and dangle Then I took some of the proceeds and I started a label Soul of a thug, blood of a creature, the heart of a gangster Pole in my clutch, I never needed no guardian angel (Deep down my soul) In the heart of the manger (Deep down my soul) Double-parkin' that Maybach (Deep down my soul) Still ain't talkin' to strangers New AR with the laser (crazy to be), bitch, quit callin' me crazy (Bitch, quit callin' me crazy) (Bitch, quit callin' me crazy) (Bitch, quit callin' me crazy) Bitch, quit callin' me crazy