My Last Try Lyrics – Nicholas Craven & Boldy James

My Last Try Lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, it’s the mafia
Biggest creature, what else?

[Verse 1]
Doin’ 75 up the fish with a half moon of the mist (Ayy)
When the hood run the place, it give me the jitters (Uh)
Born the pick up the litter, quarter brick in the rental (Yeah, uh-huh)
Forty-fifth in my denim
Shorty thick as a Snicker, trim as Melyssa Ford (Where we at?)
Square as a checkerboard (Uh-huh), booth’ll heat up hot as the Edsel Ford
Told ’em, “Cue the beat up,” now you can press record (Song)
It’s likе I breathe classics, got all the V’s ‘matic
Gucci jеan hat with the little G’s, tax me a thou’ (A thou-wow)
Flashin’ back on the memories of me bad as a child (Youngin’)
Seem like all I recall is the fiends flaggin’ me down (That’s it)
Baggin’ down the shortcake in the kitchen, tryna baste the turkey (Talk to me)
Uppin’ my thirty in his face, makin’ him pray for mercy
Showin’ up at the court dates down at the Frankie Murphy (Ayy)
At my preliminary exam with a paid attorney (Where we at?)
227, 50/50, know we play with birdies
Hundred-ten percent hustlers, it ain’t no 80/30 (It ain’t)
What else? (Ayy)

[Chorus]
Beam on the switch, you see what happened to the last guy (The last guy, that nigga [?] fool)
I’m tryna put wins on the brick and make the glass fly (Yeah, 227)
No more nicin’ it up, say, “Hello” to the bad guy (Where we at with it? Mafia, what else?)
Type of nigga jump to conclusions ‘fore I ask why (‘Fore I ask why, yeah, can’t walk away)
Know a J can still eye-ball the work with a glass eye (Glass eye, yeah, can’t walk away)
Wasted my chance to walk away, now this my last try

[Verse 2]
Cut my overhead expenses on the roadtrips from Bouldercrest to Memphis (Yeah)
Cup holder full of change for the parking meter (Where we at?)
Filled it in Glencoe, served it in a margarita
Run out of rizzy, had to cut it with the carpet cleaner (Are we there yet?)
Can’t walk away ’cause I don’t think I got the heart to leave her
Youngin’ quick to Randy Moss a body, he my star receiver
I make your Maybach look like the grill of a Pinto (Ayy)
He’s taught shoot to kill, he’ll do a drill in an Enzo (Bust out the lens)
On Hell Block with the .223 in my KENZO
Got the streets in a limbo, what good is it if you can’t spit? (You tell me)
Dope butter, it’s the suede on the wheat Timbo’ (Ayy)
I got you shot dead in your face, it’s me, [?] (ConCreatures)
We gon’ show up and show out wherever them lames kick it (Yeah)
Had to swap out his blicky, put in too much pain with it (Too much work)
227, whole city know my gang wicked (In real life)
Can hit the road and take a hit, get paid the same ticket
Let’s get it

[Chorus]
Beam on the switch, you see what happened to the last guy (The last guy, that nigga [?] fool)
I’m tryna throw rims on the brick and make the glass fly (Yeah, 227)
No more nicin’ it up, say, “Hello” to the bad guy (Where we at with it? Mafia, what else?)
Type of nigga jump to conclusions ‘fore I ask why (‘Fore I ask why, yeah, can’t walk away)
Know a J can still eye-ball the work with a glass eye (Glass eye, yeah, can’t walk away)
Wasted my chance to walk away, now this my last try