Last Day Out

Marc Boomin, this you?

What up, Marc Boomin?

You know what's up, you know

This my last day out, you know what I'm sayin'?

I'm, I'ma go 'head kick it with y'all, show you how I'm livin' right quick, though

I'll be right back, though

That shit ain't shit

Boomin need extras

This my last day out, I'm finna jump fresh

Pull a hundred K out, go to the set

It'll be God if I find a pint of Hi-Tech

Gotta go out with a bang on my last sip

Still got BMI checks I ain't cash yet

YouTube checks rollin' in, I ain't even check

I wasn't paranoid at all, I ain't even sweat

Twenty racks on the floor right now, I'ma need that

Three years and eight months, I'll be right back

Quarter million put up, I could sleep like that

But I'm really nervous, though, I can't even cap

I just bought my second crib and BM got the 'Lac

Probably finna sell my 550, snatch off the wrap

I can make a hundred racks quick, I just gotta rap

I know I'm out on fed bond, but I got a strap

I got too many chains on, I ain't tryna scrap

Dick her down off a Perc', made her wobble back

I think I need to go to church, whеre my mama at?

Gotta spend some timе with my granny, where Big Mama at?

I should bring her to the studio to watch me rap

Your grandbaby doin' good, just made another hundred

My mama lost me to the state, me and my lil' brother

Baby Ghost, I told you to chill, we gotta get some money

Just think about when mama used to make us split a hundred

We gon' be straight, though, I feel it in my stomach

I dicked her down, bitch say she feel it in her stomach

I might turn myself in in a Prada jumper

Just know when I get out, a helicopter comin'

Man, them bitches hit your baby with conspiracy

Took the blame for a phone call, it wasn't really me

Them bitches grabbed, me, Ty, A, Lee, and my nigga C

Talkin' 'bout the fuckin' City Boys, are you kiddin' me?

I don't even know them niggas in my paperwork

And I ain't sayin' nobody snitchin' unless I see the paper first

Yeah, I knocked the bitch out, but I maced her first

'Member stuntin' at the gas station tryna take a purse

Now I'm freestylin', drinkin' cough syrup, takin' Percs

Yeah, I'll post your mixtape, you gotta pay me first

I know my fans probably mad I gotta leave 'em

But I'ma still drop heat, y'all gotta stream it

Even though it's gon' be a while 'fore y'all see me

I'm comin' back ten times harder, guarantee it

What kind of diamonds in your chain? I can't see 'em

I got some Cookie loads 'round, they eighteen-ish

Plea agreement came in, I ain't read it

Just give me all the time y'all want to, 'cause I ain't see shit

Just 'cause he got thirty months don't mean he snitched

If you ain't see the evidence, then you can eat dick

Forty-four months seem long, but it's gon' be quick

I might not even call a bitch 'til week six

Can't be mad, 'cause I signed up for this street shit

Got it out the mud, I do not accept free shit

Y'all gon' miss me, though?

Man, they lyin' if they say Da Yung OG ain't put the city on

When you locked up, they'll treat you like you dead and gone

Little do they know I'm comin' home to a letter, bro

Like an M or somethin'

And my bitch textin' me like the dinner done

Man, the opps cliqued up, I bought a bigger gun

Seventeen-five just to get the kitchen done

Bullets in the .308 look like a little thumb

Alright, I got so much sauce on me like a chicken nugget

Dior B22s off the prison jumper

I'ma be gone for a minute, but my niggas comin'

My niggas comin' harder than ever

Yeah, my niggas finna go hard

Ghetto Boyz, bitch, on the yard, I'ma bogard

Probably got fifty, sixty racks in my Goyard

Nigga, you do not own a crib, you ain't—

How the fuck you own a crib, you stuntin' an AP, you ain't got no yard?

Ayy, I'll be right back, though, look

Ghetto Boyz in this bitch, nigga, free the whole ghetto

Free C, free A, free Ri, free T, you know what I'm sayin'

My nigga Peezy back, Mike gon' hold this shit down

Louie gon' hold this shit down

I got the Coochie Man

Nigga, my best friends are fuckin' talented entertainment

Y'all gotta, ayy, y'all gotta deal with us

Nigga, even when I'm gone, y'all gon' have to deal with me, 'cause I'm still puttin' pressure down

And I'm givin' you niggas a chance to catch back up, goddamnit

I'm finna go, go down, lay down, go to sleep for three years, eight months

Get some rest

'Cause when I come home, the pressure back on

I'm back not sleepin', I'm back in the studio on you niggas' head

I'm back droppin' chains and watches and new cars

Y'all niggas got three years to catch up, bro, I'm tellin' you

Shit on the floor, Ghetto Boyz

Let me hear that shit, Water, from the jump