Pinto (feat. Boldy James)

The Alchemist

Compositor: The Alchemist

Ran up a check on the outskirts, stacks all in my insoles (racks)
Touring like a concert with them beans, I ain't talking pintos (yeah)
Base rentals in the bike lane, stayed down, I was ten toes (what else?)
On the 8 with my bloodline, Wuz and Nutty throwing big 'bows (yeah)
On the East, twenty-four carat, Cutty throwing up big fours (wow)
All the opps balling on a budget, fuck it, I'ma get them bricks sold (bricks sold)
In the kitchen with the Alchemist, cooking up, I'm in mix mode (boldy)
Wrist cold when I spin it up, niggas tinted up, but I'm fishbowl (fishbowl)

(Niggas tinted up, but I'm fishbowl)
Keep that coke swimming in a fishbowl
This that 20/20 Pyrex vision on a lit stove (work)
Nigga say he burnin' up the turnpike, got me like: Which road? (Huh?)
Now the Rollie bust-bust, I ain't talking Flipmode (it's Blocks)
Said he on the 6-4, told him: Meet me at the Citgo (let's get it)
On 7 and Littlefield, pint of Hi-Tech and a scrip of pills
Bitches know I got the juice, niggas know it's been a drill
Niggas whipping Robitussin, mixing it with Benadryl
Get a brick of blow and cut it, hit it with the fentanyl
Baby bottle spoiled up, I ain't talking Enfamil (at all)
If it ain't sealed up, I'ma up strigadil (up strap)
'Fore I had a record deal, I was really in the field (was already on)
For a little bit of nothin', I could get a nigga spilled (woah)
'Fore I had a fanbase, I was selling tan flakes
Rakin' in the cash, tryna make sure that my mans straight (my guys)
Now everybody breaking bad, shook all of that dead weight
Upgraded my stash, shaking that bag like I landscape (been working)
My lil' brother SK gotta fight a Fed case
Whole lot of gang shit, and that's without the handshakes (uh)

Ran up a check on the outskirts, stacks all in my insoles
Touring like a concert with them beans, I ain't talking pintos
Base rentals in the bike lane (Uh), stayed down, I was ten toes
On the 8 with my bloodline, Wuz and Nutty throwing big 'bows
On the East, twenty-four carat, Cutty throwing up big fours
All the opps balling on a budget, fuck it, I'ma get them bricks sold
In the kitchen with the Alchemist, cooking up, I'm in mix mode
Wrist cold when I spin it up, niggas tinted up, but I'm fishbowl (Mr. Mafia, fishbowl)

Playing with them Icks out in Frisco (San Fran)
Now we up dog shit, I was just on Skid Row
Marching up Baldwin, Kercheval back to Jeffro
Two phones slamming, off a Virgin Mobile and a Getro (where we at?)
Snatching up niggas custies, scale kinda dusty
While y'all niggas in the county working for the police like a trustee (fucking rat)
43 AMG, it's Ali on the MP
Alley-oop, it's only us (Uh-huh), but it's really just me
Skinny nigga, 6'3 , dining in at the Whitney
Dream cruising up Woodward, candy paint, '96 MB
I been in the streets so long, shit, I'm dehydrated and exhausted
On them hot blocks off of Moffat (East), cold water running out the faucet
Finna make it through the bullfrog, shit could take or it could fall
I can press play, I can push pause with that mini-Drac' and that bulldog
Traffic in the tri-state, love a bad bitch with a pie-face
Now them hundreds stuck together like flypape'