The Source lyrics

[Verse 1: Jiles]
I just pulled up in that whatchacallit
Fiends on the block, it ain't designer
Tube sock is their favorite wallet
I remember seein' my older cousin cracked out on my mama sofa
Slept for three days, his body slumped over (Facts)
I'm on a different tax bracket
Still the same n*gga f*ckin' hoes on the air mattress
Off hand doing calisthenics, got the hood jumping
National Grid outside, we light the stove oven, real sh*t
What is life? I'm in studio with my rap peers
That Carhartt stab-proof, with it, feel like Paul Pierce
Posted on the block with them lawn chairs
Gossiping about getting money, bad hoеs, and who out here, I'm out herе

[Chorus: Jiles]
If this was nine-four, I would've got five mics
If this was nine-four, I would've got five mics
f*ck The Source, little n*gga, I'm the source for real
f*ck The Source, little n*gga, I'm the source for real

[Verse 2: Ricky Felix]
I was on the Eastside picking dimes, ripping rhymes
Hoping God ain't let me die
n*ggas tried to take me off the earth (For real)
Walkin' up on n*ggas after school tryna catch the work
Them boys were f*ckin' spooked, though
Hangin' with my CVs, f*ckin' on a lil' puto
Police tryna kill the folk (Yeah)
Hangin' on my f*ckin' hawk, them lil' n*ggas gettin' poked
I was dead broke chasin' dollars
Please don't take me out my mode
Motherf*ckers tryna take me out my zone
But I ain't tripping, though
[Verse 3: FELIX]
sh*t, and I ain't missing, though
'Cause music sh*t ain't set in stone (Set in stone)
Just tryna set the tone, respect your roles and fémen dan (Fémen dan)
I spent these troubled times with dimes that could've been in Vogue
See Jiles' style is more like slam dunking, mines is finger rolls
sh*t, if it was '98, I'd sign to Murder Inc (Yeah)
I'd cop the coldest mink and crew would got the goldest links (Yeah)
A plain Rollie face, that shiny sh*t depreciates (Yeah)
But this is present-day sh*t
See, where I'm from, I made it

[Chorus: Jiles]
If this was nine-four, I would've got five mics
If this was nine-four, I would've got five mics
f*ck The Source, little n*gga, I'm the source for real
f*ck The Source, little n*gga, I'm the source for real

[Verse 4: Conway the Machine]
Look
I used to want five mics in The Source, now I'm the source for real
n*gga couldn't afford a deal, now I do corporate deals
Peanut butter seats, the Porsche was teal
Had all the odds stacked against me, I made a fortune still (I'm up, n*gga)
That boy was doing the most, so he was forced to chill (Sit down, pus*y)
Talkin' greasy on internet, that boy in his feelings
I got the bag to have him smoked, I can afford to kill (Uh-huh)
Machine, b*tch, I'm a boss for real (Woo)
Mafia sh*t, two to the head, how that revolver feel?
Got wise guys that'll whack you, get rid of that corpse for real
Got mob ties, my guy, but I don't eat no pork or veal
And I'm top five with lines if ever we talking skill
And I got fly, I'm top three if ever we talking spill, sh*t (Talk to 'em)
n*gga, you broke, so why you talking still? (Hah)
Put the nail in them n*ggas' coffin still
Got the carbine steel
I'll blow they melon across the field, Machine