Lyrics:
Tre 8

[Tre-8] If I was to see you at the red light walkin', strugglin', stuck the fuck out, I'd blow the horn, turn the radio up and peel the fuck out, Leave

, the shooters got Berettas in their hand This is Mafia, veterans'll plan Word to the tape on the brick, this is raw I'm in the 4x4, 8 plus 8 in the clip

8-ball, ready to brawl All for one, all for Pillage, run y'all across stage Come in your state, bust down your gate Throw spit like a tre'-8, Ghostface

snaps Adapts to any environment that I'm located at If you see me on the solo move, best believe that I'm strapped 44, .tre-8 or AK-47 'Cos slowly but

on the dice game, A hand full of 10's and a pocket full of cocaine, But my dimes too small, so im'a grab my 8ball And go for the dice brall, A young

charge Flat TVs and some tiles for my momma car Eighty-thousand dollars, I'mma fuckin' ghetto superstar Work come soft, never hard, that's a different charge Tre-8

yo ass is bad for yo health ice cube If you're foul, you better run a make on that license plate You coulda had a V8 Instead of a tre-eight slug to

find her way She can't find her way [Game - Verse 3] Thats all I'm thinking on this Grey hound Usually I'll be in this seat with brids and a tre pound

, got a millimeter gun Blow out ya lungs Like them old Italians, Mafia, gangstas son When you see me comin', better run for fuckin' cover bum Blite, AK, SK, .44, Tre8