The Rules Lyrics

I don't give a fuck about you, I don't give a fuck about Steele, and I don't give a fuck about Raheem either, and I don't give a fuck about myself

Look, I ain't his shit, I ain't never gon' be his shit, and he less of a man than me so soon as I decide that you ain't gon' be his shit

Damn

So be it

You remember that motherfucker

I read it and I'm told, man, this shit here got a kickback

They callin' me the plug, cause the way a nigga spit crack

Church phones ringin' off, that was in my younger days

Bandol's house party, now a nigga gettin' laid, gettin' paid

If you broke, them bitches wasn't fuckin' with you

Put a ticket on his head, I bet my niggas come and get you

Birds fly farther in the summer, that's a snowy day

Never back to work, I'm sorry, J, what you fuckin' layin'

Rule number one, keep a down-ass chick

Put her on the jug, she'll take that lick

Rule number two, keep them squares out your circle

Cause them the ones that rap, they'll apply them mercies

Rule number three, try to limit your traffic

Cause they'll do anything to get a reaction

I disappeared from the scene like Houdini, I'm magic

Had to take a couple lives, see, I think you was tragic

Birds flyin' high, birds flyin' high

I took two shells in the wrist, they call me God now

Had to pick the pieces back up, turn out the fall now

I talk about Atlanta a lot, I'm lovin' where I'm from

The same nigga want it off me, we left his body slumped

Cashed out the first and the fifth like the rent due

Atlantic City, Monday night, like what that Henny do

Drop a whole O on the stove and let it rock up

You niggas really wantin' these hands, I put the Glock up

Two-fifty cash, say that for my lawyer

Another two-fifty, gonna spend it with my daughters

Cash out that money, gonna give him what he order

SMG the champs, playin' all four quarters

Yeah, playin' all four quarters

SMG the champs, playin' all four quarters, nigga

Birds flyin' high, birds flyin' high