Hol Fam

[Intro:]

Team Early

Lot of Lexus' in the building

All different avenues, you smell me?

(Benji style, Benji style, Benji style...)

[Verse 1:]

I got a lot of bars, I got a lot of burners

Hold it down for my niggas that's behind bars

I got a lot of raps, I got a lot of straps

Got that 650 grand Coup, I'm a trap star

My beard big and it's awkward, my voice different

They said it'd be hard to market and yet I cornered the market

Ten years later, I'm still here

And people whose careers started when mine started careers departed

I am, lion-hearted, I'm a a rare breed

I'm my father's only seed, I'm my mother's only offspring

Buck shot's up in the Mossberg, boss things

My bitch got me feelin' like Sam Rothstein

I'm b'out to LA clip her, we all sinners

But the best of us sinners are those who are repent

Neck froze, wrist froze, and it's barely even winter

On my caveman shit, about to hunt for my dinner

Come on!

[Dialogue:]

We methodical with this shit

Straight up and down – nothin' flashy over here

That's how we livin' – three the hard way

Three emcee's doin' what they do

Nothin' fake here

My young boy gon' wreck it

From the Windy City

Ayo Sean – get 'em

[Verse 2: Sean]

Chyeah!

You see I'm in it for a reason, someone to believe in

Learned to swim quicker 'cause I got tossed in the deep end

My cousin was a drunk, and his father was a deacon

Nonsense made sense, let that there seep in

I've seen a prom queen never leave the nest

And end up with more babies than dudes she had sex with

I respect it 'cause I'm as real as it gets

And I'm a terrible liar, so what you see what you get

I'm living proof, of the talent that won't tarnish

A monster, I'm fightin', I don't do no sparrin'

My jeep got you wranglers looking so Brett Farvrish

Claimin' I'm a 'burbanite but don't want no problems

Put it together like no other

Hungry as a child with no mother

Twelve brothers, reppin' the three fingers

Mind on a roof with no gutter

Knifin' through butter, watchin' my thoughts hover

Come on!

Chyeah!

[Dialogue:]

We raining verbal terror on y'all fake emcees

Your squad ain't tough

Y'all peon-ass cats

Talkin' 'bout y'all killers

Y'all 16 shots can't match

This 50 in the clip right here

Real street niggas know what it is

Ayo Tek – spit at these niggas

[Verse 3: Tek]

Young nigga – fast lane

Usain Bolt of the crack game

Never gave a fuck and I still don't

Home run show and I never bunt

No matter how much a money getter

You still looked at as a black nigga

I come through and I get salutes

I don't even talk as much as my shooter shoots

I'm still looked at as a boss

I bounce back, after every loss

I take a minute but I'm still in it

I keep my family as my lieutenant

It's so hard to trust outsiders

If I'm Clyde, who my Bonnie rider?

I just wanna count a million figures

And have the jails open up for my million niggas

[Outro:]

Marchin' through your hood, stompin' on your projects

We the Lords of War – 'nough respect

Hello world – we made it

Come on...