Lyrics:

I got places to go, I got people to see Flippin' a tangerine, ain't no place for me
No more than you do, not tip me I run up, squeeze, and pull the whole
I got places to go, I got people to see Flippin' a tangerine, ain't no place for me
No more than you do, not tip me I run up, squeeze, and pull the whole
You was takin' me for somebody that you should be testin'
You should be stressin', I'm finna fuckin' teach you a lesson
Rap 101's a session, emulates the track that I'm blessin'
Smith & Wess is the weapon, in case you was guessin'
This gang bustas campin', it's kept in my bands
Hop again in the end, watch the 22s spin
My hoes, they perfect ten, I got shot up, but I got up
And I'm back at it again, motherfuckers that thought I wouldn't win
Pretend to be friends, at first you fail, try, try, try, try again
I'm the best, don't you get it, get it, when I spit it, it's crazy
If you love it, admit it, you like that I live it, it's shady
Aftermath in your ass, bitch, if it's not a classic
When it's done, we trash it, flow, I got it mastered
Stuck and get your ass kicked, passed it
When messes get drastic, crocs made out of plastic
Cockin' aim it, blastin', run nigga, I'm stash it
Got places to go, got people to see
The penitentiary ain't the place for me
I'm warning you to not tempt me
I run up, squeeze, and put a hole in you
Got places to go, got people to see
The penitentiary ain't the place for me
I'm warning you to not tempt me
I run up, squeeze, and put a hole in you
There's a genie in the bottle of that Dom Perignon
I'ma drink till I get to that bitch
And when they gon' introduce me to the nerve
They gon' listen to my words
And oh, they feel my shit
Picture a perfect picture
Picture me in a pit pack
Picture me start shit
Picture me bustin' my gap
Picture police mad, they ain't got a picture of that
Picture me bein' broke
Picture me smokin' a sack
Picture me comin' up
Picture me rich from back
Picture me blowin' up
Now picture me goin' back
To my mama's basement to live shit
Picture that, where I'm from, it's a fact
You gotta watch your back
You wear a vest without a gat
Use a target jack
Hustle hard, money stacked
Sell that dope, sell that crack
Sell that pack, sell that gat
Sell that pussy, call her back
Think you sent too much heat
Man, I'm bent, I'm outta here
Got places to go, got people to see
The penitentiary ain't the place for me
I'm warning you to not tempt me
I run up, squeeze, and put a hole in you
Got places to go, got people to see
The penitentiary ain't the place for me
I'm warning you to not tempt me
I run up, squeeze, and put a hole in you
Oh, matter of fact, I might be in Detroit
Ridin' down 8 Mile Road, you know
I wanna enjoy some shit
You heard me
I got places to go, man
You know
City out the map
We finna start printin' money
Put it in place on these motherfuckin' buildings and shit
Ha ha ha ha ha
Ain't shit you can do about it