"If you's a true homey, you would wish me well
Not plot to make a brother fail, jealous as hell
We used to get the same riches
Now your trigger finger got the itches, schemin' on my riches
Which is not a surprise, my eyes peep game
211s, 187s it's all the same
It's all a shame, homies'd jack you for your grip
Ain't no love involved, because it's all about the chips"