Mailman-Al D

f/ Mr. 3-2 (*talking*) (*knocking on door*) who the f**k is it (It's the mailman), about time you got here (you got my money), yeah 250 dollas (what the f**k is 250 dollas, say Fed-Ex This Al-Ex, and I'm fin to execute your Motherf**king a**, if you don't give me the Rest of my god damn money) (*screaming*) I'm the mailman, I'm the mailman I'm the mailman, sacks or stacks in my hand I'm the mailman, I'm the mailman I went from rags to riches, now you b**ches can't understand I wonder if a ni**a, wasn't down with this rap sh*t Would I get the love and hugs, and all this dap sh*t Signing autographs, no strap no mask Now my trash in the past, ain't gotta worry bout the task I got up off my a**, and mashed for my cash Now his and her jacks, or own glass in the grass I stash and stash, until I stretch mark the vault And the pain from the game, made me gain with my chalk I thought of this day, when the haters all knock Now I'm getting props, from the same foul mouth God damn, niggas ain't sh*t now-a-days And b**ches flock a ni**a, when they see you getting paid But like I got mine, you gotta get your's I'm on my grind in the studio, as if it was chores Now you look shook, and you don't understand I went from rags to riches, b**ches call me the mailman First I'll f**k my foes, and these money hungry hoes Two-face niggas and b**ches, hating to see me on toes From the hood to every state, city, town and block I'm infesting the intersection, with this uncut knot Watch what you can't stop, don't knock cause we the sh*t Third Coast smoke and toast, to this pimping G sh*t Forever chasing cheddar, a** on leather Dripping candy gripping wood, see we floss together Living lavage with lavage, having straight to karats Now we too damn established, in the eyes of the savage We gon ball till we fall, hanging placks on the wall Sipping drank and smoking dank, passing up the alcohol Buy up the whole mall, invest and make mo' G'd up head to toe, and keep our music playing slow Third Coast my home, but I'm Southeast raised Trying to increase my knot, and find a spot in the shade The mailman b**ch, but I'm here to collect Take my respect, make sure I get the right ones to check You feeling me yet, I gotta get mine Every nickel and dime, I stop niggas like stop signs With glock 9's and barettas, it's whatever with me The G-O-V, still throwing up S.U.C. 3-2 and Al-D, go and get it with no tussle Working our muscle, living our life on the hustle Wanting our albums, doing shows and features When this deal go bad, I'ma have to delete ya You wanna meet your up talk, with all the shedded dealing I'm bout cash in my hand, brother how a ni**a feeling I'm the mailman