im guilty
*to the beat of young jeezy's "i put on for my city"
65 g'z in a italian leather attache,
open transactions in barnes and nobles attached cafe
throw the sack in the trunk, running wit the package trying not to fumble yall
sacks heavier thang bowlings bags and im trying not to throw a gutter ball
touch down at home base... safe and sound... its all goodie
breakin the block down into zips while gettin lit cd deck spinning woodie
some might call this money a curse, but im thinkin that its heaven scent
my pounds are chalkline white and lime green weed damn near flourescent
trying stay on top of it all and find a way to stop sellin dope
causing im knowing the feds is on the other end of that ruby coated scope
payment please