Paroles Sam Buckshot

Sam

[Intro]
On the block, listening to Buckshot in the trap
Twenty four hours a day

[Verse 1]
Focus your attention, not to mention the fact
Yeah, I’m high off the liquor plus a bench and a fat L
HIgh as hell, no YSL
Strictly LRG for the BD emcee

Let’s see who could follow me on the journey
I burn trees like third degrees, you heard of me
If not, this might be your last shot
Cause you’re falling off fast in hip-hop
Drip-drop in your money fountain
No more in front of your honey counting -- chill
My skills pay bills; why you don’t?
You cry, who gon’ cry for me? You won’t
Stop stressing; my impression
I’m never impressed by the rest, so stop guessing
What’s next on my agenda
Cause you might be gone til November
Chill, Sam

[Verse 2]
Everybody got they own Sam
Sam sells drugs by the fruit stand, ducking blue vans
Every day, he got at least two grand
I’m like, damn Sam, can I get a part of your plan?
He said no problo, no job, no stress
We can get it off consignment, yeah, I know Bless
Who’s Bless? He worked for your older brother
When he had that crack spot open to the public
So lovely, now you want a piece of the action
When these streets see you cracking and they wonder what happened
Asking, how can I be just like you?
When I get dressed, I’ll dress just like you
I said two things -- every hustle got a hassle
Watch the money on the lasso, it come with a string
Yo Sam, this is who I am
Hip-hop, you in the trap, we both the same, man

[Outro]
On the block
Listening to Buckshot in the trap
Twenty four hours a day
On the clock
Nah mean?