I Am The Streets Lyrics - Street King - Trae Tha Truth

Fire! 

[Verse 1 - Rick Ross] 

Riding in a cab but I'm dreaming of a slab 

Cooking ounces at a time, pussy nigga do the math 

Ten ice chains, Prince like James 

The day I made a stack in the trap, my life changed 

Y'all ride swangers, we ride Daytons 

It don't matter where you from, haters stay hating 

Keep the windows tinted, artillery when I'm in it 

Whip it in the kitchen before Hillary became a Clinton 

Assholes by nature, cash flow was major 

In the old school, or M codes and fragers 

Started with a crumb, but turned it to a brick 

They were calling me a bum, my turn, I'm the shit 

Razor flipped things, age of fifteen 

Got a Chevy in that thing, blades like Chris Creams 

Rose on the wrist, when the shows ain't exist 

Now my money long enough to put the fours on a six 

Boss 

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[Chorus - Lloyd] 

From the depths of the sea to the stars in the sky 

I'ma be a hustler till I die 

Sixty in the clip in case enough pride 

But all them haters want to try 

So shorty what you smoking on? 

Marijuana's what I'm choking on 

I don't care if you call me crazy 

But street niggas getting mullah baby 

[Verse 2 - Trae tha Truth] 

I'm still located in the gutter, fresh set of fours 

Watching haters out a foreign, chopper on the floor 

Pillowcases full of money, still ain't got no place to go 

So I evacuate the safe, hit the hood and let it blow 

You thinking I ain't the king of my section, nigga you way off 

My hustle make the killer amazing like it's the playoffs 

In the hood for real, these corners I never stay off 

Satin black Camaro, the Challenger till the day off 

Picture that 

I remember of having visions of getting paid 

Now I sit on something suede or in something that's getting sprayed 

I'm in that field with the trap around the third eye 

This the National Hood Geographics, call it bird watching 

I'm this jungle rocking cinematic stones 

Interstate, but the bread talking money so long 

Pussy niggas mad because I'm getting my money on 

Who else you know got out the hood and put half the city on? 

Photos 

[Chorus] 

[Bridge - Lloyd] 

My name Young Lloyd, yeah you know what I'm on 

Many girls are laid in my Styrofoam 

And I'm in the H-Town, so don't play around 

Or my nigga Trae tha Truth going to lay you down 

Rick Ross be the boss in the Phantom and all 

Got round the clock rocks, spring, winter, and fall 

Some of y'all might call me crazy 

But street niggas getting mullah baby 

[Verse 3 - The Game] 

I'm a natural born asshole, is you? Yeah, why? 

Because it's do or die when them choppers in the air 

I see clear as Belvedere, you haters know this my year 

Paid no attention to y'all, I'm still thinking about Shakur 

Having suicidal thoughts in this Phantom, it's a bitch ain't it? 

Paid a half a million for this motherfucker, then paint it 

Chinchilla floor mats, that's beyond paper 

Me and Trae flying through Houston like Von Wafer 

You niggas ain't balling, you T-Mack, you stay hurt 

I order more Pequa, got more rocks than a Jay verse 

I used to sell pounds, watch 'Mash', and weigh work 

Got shot and woke up out a coma, could've been way worse 

But now I'm living for my niggas 

Locked deep down in the prison hole, with no vision 

When I drop the top, I do it for you 

So close your eyes and let the sun shine through 

Yeah 

[Chorus]