Letra de The Warehouse - Fuego Base

(Feat. Black Soprano Family, Benny the Butcher, OT the Real)

Uh-huh

Black Soprano's

If it ain't that, it ain't nothin'

It's only gon' go one way, uh

Off the corner, I made my great escape

That type of energy radiate, radio playin' Babyface

That little nine-piece, that ain't no weight

I cross county lines when state to state, OT with that Fuego Base

Are you a soldier or is you makin' cake?

'Cause breakin' bread with crowded table space

Gon 'start to feel like anchor weights

I kinda feel like Jim Kelly did, one game away

I gave the game away, save that pie for a rainy day

Countin' up with Jay Rock, we goin' dollar for dollar

Knowledge is power, I'm a businessman, my product was powder

Brick stacked, stashed in the oven, but that's not a lasagna

India'll drive them bitches back herself, from Guadalajara

I bet y'all thought I was finished when I got shot by that robber

'Cause that'd probably take your stock to the bottom

Havin' dough, that's not a new problem, the plug in Malibu hidin'

He get the door of the mansion', sayin' "Mi casa, su casa"

Luxury shit, that's what I got comfortable with

Look who turned a couple of bricks into publishing splits

Six years later, my nigga, and I'm still punishin' shit

Haters mad at me still, must be somethin' I spent, fuck 'em

Tryna make a million out the microwave

Let a fiend slide once, turns into the Ice Capades

Homie sells magnetic leaves, that covers license plates

Them RICO cases beatable, if they by the state

First week in Philly, first seen a body

If you see me outside, I'm goin' to meet somebody

What you know about beef and broccoli?

Bro burned the line and got ghost, then made a post sayin' "Cheap biscotti"

Headshot from the iron, that's a hole-in-one

Detectives at my mom's again, somethin ' 'bout a stolen gun

Home invasions on your folks, get the dope and run

Bet you I got a way with the most, like the oldest son

Just got trackin' on the box, here I hope it comes

Ironic how I came up off of coke and guns

I pressed together broken crumbs, 'til I broke my thumbs

We run shit over, 'til it's over-run, let's go

Spent another day in the hole

My nigga Snake took five, shot a nigga first day, on parole (Facts)

If you've been waitin' since Free Chain 1, thank you, the slum angel

Watch same color as the ash, 'round the bum ankles, that's light-grey

Don't say that he better, unless he 'Pac or died in March on the 9th day

They said I sound like 'Kiss, figure it'd slow me

Till Kobe used mike old shit, to win them trophies (Okay, okay)

Whole bunch of three-point-fives, enough to stop a hater

I put balls on your head, like a soccer player (Facts)

Makin' a mule out my next shorty

If I was in jail in Russia, Britney Griner wouldn’t check for me (No)

A criminal that made it in a gray fisker

Before the money counter, bills gave splinters

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