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letra de good vs. evil - nantes

(verse 1)
f-ck it all, b-tch, i’m in it for checks
and they better be large like my p-n-s erect
i ain’t f-ckin’ with them n-ggas from the enemy set
they runnin’ off at the lips f-ck around and get pressed
leave some blood on yo white t, yo jaw on the floor
take yo b-tch, yo rollie chain, and yo ps4
run up in yo momma sh-t with the pistol grip
backhand yo baby mama tell her run that quik
she not safe + sound, a n-gga need his dollaz and sense
my own son need to see his daddy comin’ wit ends
and i need to wife his mom so they know that she mine
straighten a mark nigaa up tell ’em walk the line
ogs see me shinin’ yeah, i’m ’bout that biz
i been chasin’ this dream and you been chasin’ a yamp
and i spit that fire for yo kids to camp
wit a bad spanish b-tch who ‘gon swallow deez
not misogynistic kuz a b-tch ain’t a queen to young la n-gga honor amongst thieves
even east coast women tryna hit them knees, imma king
who the f-ck gon tell me different?
tell me i’m not honest or i ain’t wit it
b-tch, i been about the coast when these n-ggas was leanin
i strive hard for the grip that you earned wit pride
ain’t no k!ll ’em all wit kindness, b-tch, that sh-t been dead
f-ck up

(hook)
red flags, blue flags, where my n-ggas at?
red flags, blue flags, where my n-ggas at? (pump, pump!)
red flags, blue flags, where my n-ggas at?
posted up in the back, we don’t need the strap (we don’t need it n-gga)
red flags, blue flags, where my n-ggas at? (bow!)
red flags, blue flags, where my n-ggas at? (pump, pump!)
red flags, blue flags, where my n-ggas at?
kuz everybody know the west coast back

(verse 2)
it ain’t all about the benjamins
a b-tch’ll talk sh-t but won’t put in worl
plus we don’t love these hoes
we just get to the p-ssy then its back to the mission
this why them n-ggas lookin’ salty, why them n-ggas is itchin
for a 187 kuz the grip in my pocket
measure a man c-ck size and the ends in his wallet
that’s a b-tch move, that’s what a b-tch do
oh, wait, no that’s just you n-ggas nowadays wit hoe clothes and b-tch made
get my wrist paved like first grade wit scooby-doo
bloodhound for my blessings so i can’t f-ck wit you
need my momma to keep this promise (yes, yes)
need my son to see me honest (yes, lord)
need you n-ggas to see me brackin’ (h-ll yea)
need them official colors kuz i’m tryna get active
wessup!

(hook)

(verse 3)
ay, west coast back, fake blood break morals like batman spine
comic book nerd, never really had the time to bang hard like i say
but i aspired to be like the n-ggas bangin’ hard who inspired me
my uncle sylent og bloodhound but the irony, i became what i condemned with a strap tucked deep
tryna prove somethin’, sh-t but this really ain’t me
gotta n-gga runnin’ but the gun heavy, hand shakin’; sweatin’ hard in the alley where i stand
shadows all around as the devil guide my scope
gang bangin’ really like the new jim crow
skin color really don’t matter where i’m from
they respect the shooter, even idolize the f-ckin’ gun
everybody always in a race for the grip, ackin’ like a human life really don’t mean sh-t
what the f-ck?

(hook)

(outro)
let’s ride where the westsides hang (let’s ride, let’s ride)
let’s bang hope the kids don’t play x4

momma: “huh”?
nantes: “you wanna go to yee’s when you get back”?
momma: “uh-huh”
nantes: “okay”

- nantes

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