Lyrics Tony Soprano 2 - Nines

Aye, all fun and jokes aside, nigga
I need them Nines double entendres, nigga
Them Nines metaphors, nigga
I need you to flex and shit on everybody off this verse, nigga
I need that feelin' when you was handin' out them grills, nigga
I need that feelin' when you was handin' out them sneakers, nigga
When you had everybody locked in and talkin', nigga
That's the feelin' that I need
ASAP

Uh, I just put-, I just put a tonne on the back of a truck (uh)
Me and Midgy should've won the Cannabis Cup
I ain't put no plaques on my wall yet
By at least five, I'll them packs to your doorstep
In this-, in this music scene, I'm legendary
Raps always been secondary like February
Told my guy, "Don't come near me with no tester" (uh)
(Don't be talkin' packs 'round Siri and Alexa)

Free the gang, I can't forget my celly
I was gettin' letters in the can, like alphabets' spaghetti, uh
All these niggas bite my style
I did "A-Wing's Got Talent" in jail, I was like Simon Cowell
I was in Cali' 'round the neck like a bow tie
K-K-Kush God, bitch, I'm the most high
I see these rappers actin' Holly' (uh)
When they were out there crowd-surfing
We were catchin' bodies (who were they?)

I ain't a tough guy, I always make everybody laugh
I could spit all my bars wearin' a polygraph
Rap star, still makin' pounds fly
Opps tryna' turn me to a stray like Ivory from How High
Used to shot ounces
Had a sold out tour, but I still got more fans in my crop houses
I spray up where you're cotchin'
Spend all my money on packs, I was literally weighing up my options

They say their guns spit, they ain't never done shit
Just landed the runtz 'bout to roll up a trumpet, uh
She want a man with P, but that bitch poor
That's why I'm in her crib hiding keys like a jigsaw
Still got food on the curb
(Pull) I pull up with this half moon, I don't mean "Do not disturb"
Came alone, could've brought an army
If I air it out, forensics will have to pick up more men than Lori Harvey

Came a long way from trappin' in the rain
My chicks a side bitch 'cause I'm married to the game, uh
Me and Budz in Dubai on a jetski
(Sold so much coke like I'm rivals with Pepsi)
I used to break these packs down into fractions
These niggas do way too much capping in their captions
I'm tryna leave the game, but I need a lane (uh)

These niggas pree the chain, they don't see the pain
They sent me jail for importing weed from Spain
I came home in six weeks, released the strain
Still remember reloading on a Q
We got them jungle boys, it ain't Mowgli and Baloo
The CM, wishing they could bring me back
'Cause they still need gangsters like me to point their fingers at, uh
La-, last year I was missing rap
I was on the wing kicking back with my nigga Skrapz

Even though my block's full of pricks, I ain't (nah)
And I don't trust bitches even if my chick's a saint
Paid for my last campaign, label ain't reimbursed me
Smashed her and never picked up 'cah she was thirsty
They just started, I was shipping packs time ago
Trading flavours with all the growers outside my show, uh
This ain't happened 'cause of luck
Fuck your little chain, I spend that shit at Hakkasan on duck

To make it to a kilo, that was the game plan
When I had no nect akh, I was playing Rayman
Used to have a 38 when I was trapping in the snow
Still got it to this day, I even brang it to my show, uh
I can move a hundred keys in less than a week
Driving through the other side like this is Sesame Street, uh (pussies)
Still the same old me even though I'm rich
And it's still gang-gang, I'll never switch

Yuurd!
Nines, what's good, niggas?
(Is this the Swifta beat?)