RUBBABANDZ - Where U From, Pt. 1 lyrics

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Where U From, Pt. 1 / Rubbabandz[S.T.]We got gangstas, we got thugs, we got hoes, we got pimpsWe got gators, we got fakers, we got lames, we got sipsWe got green, we got brown, we got hard, we got softWe got ep soap, soft pork, g-side, now I'm bossWe got stand-ups guys, straight g's and some crooked copsThirty six, bitch, manifested near the crooked rocksWe got the game flipping, looking like a salamanderWe got Cadillac and Shawn AlexanderWe got mid, we got 'dro, and we got plenty kushReggie blunts for the five, call it petty bushI ain't scared to push, make ten twentyPut ice on my grill, neck and pinkyWe got niggas like Bandz coming from the topTo the bottom, set up shop, then make it popWe got N.Y., little avenues and hunt fakersAnd I got three words, muthafuck them haters[Rubbabandz]There's a million niggas in my projects, where I'm fromStapleton, you an alien, hope you brought your gunNever saw a four before, welcome to the bricksConcrete jungle feel with killas and terroristsProjects, tour the skyscrapers, block full of hatersNiggas gone on that PCP and will lay it downThis is N.Y.C., come around hereOn that bullshit, you can get, stomped in the groundWith a fresh pair of Timbo's, anyway the wind blowYou can get thrown out of 30 story windowNow you a fall guy, what you get for frontingStuntman wit the drop, bet ya mouth start runningI grew up under gun slingers, finger on the ringerI'm trigger happy, especially when I'm rolling on the riverYou can bring about a hundred niggas, bet they get ran throughCuz I'm Superman when my hand on the handle[Mali Boy]'Bama, muthafucka, yea that's where I resideA damn thing to lose, but 'Bama I don't mind dying forY'all ain't put no work in, lord knows I tried thoseSpit duke, fuck the dumb shit, nigga, I'm tired folkGot it though, who the man, who the bossWho the truth, who the false, don't get ya ass tossedAlotta lotta died that come from out ya mouthWho harder, who got the prider, come round here, I ring you outYeah, hoe, I handle ya, hoing ain't my characterGot issues, I answer ya, with pistols and predatorThey scared of us, be prepared to bust, cuz it's on bitchGive it up, them hammers out of luck, and you know thisNo hocus pocus, it's real, something sick niggaLook, I been 'Bama for some years, still is niggaHood in my veins, I'm dirty as it getYa'll niggas gon' leave the scene, now I'mma clear out this bitch