San Fernando Valley, where I was raised
A hundred pounds of weed in trash bags
It's crazy to be where I'm at
We started kicking doors, times were hard
Now everything changed, I got money for sure
We're the tough ones, they gotta see me strapped
I'm a product of the streets, bro, I'm from the hood
Here we do everything to get ahead
And I'm tough, bro, pull another bump
We're flying down the Five
In the Prius, black trash bags of fifty-five
The Louis Vuitton backpack stuffed full
The Centenario shines from far away
Stay sharp about who you let eat at your table
They just fill up with envy and the backstabs come
It doesn't affect me, I don't give a f*ck about a b*tch, let's run it
'Don't talk much, son,' my mother always advised
Better to be king of your silence than slave of your words
You look better quiet
We're flying down the Five
In the Prius, black trash bags of fifty-five
The Louis Vuitton backpack stuffed full
The Centenario shines from far away