D-Boy Blues

(feat. Levitti)
 [B-Legit:]
 Aight, check game playboy
 It's like this here
 In this motherfuckin game mayne
 Shit ain't always gon' be gravy playboy, see
 Thangs ain't always gon' go your way, y'knahmsayin?
 You better take the bitter with the sweet
 If you want to survive in these motherfuckin streets
 But peep it doe
 I got kind in my mackin, I started to stackin in the Valle'
 You see I sent that bitch named, Sally
 To the track with a big fat sack of the crack
 And told her don't come back, until she did that
 Cause shit was gettin funky out in the Bay
 You couldn't find a good plug, from here to L.A.
 Cause niggaz get sheisty and sell you bunk
 And no scratch, but these gats, gon' equal funk
 You cain't be no punk, get slabbed in yo' truck
 And roll around town with the beat on pump
 Have yo' eardrums leakin from the beatin of the series 2's
 Bitch... I got the D-Boy Blues
 [Chorus x2: B-Legit]
 The blues bitch, the blues hoe
 I know some niggaz in my crew, that done had 'em befo'
 I got the blues bitch, the blues hoe
 ("Stretched, I guess I got the D-Boy Blues")
 [B-Legit:]
 My family get this call from this fool
 Who said he knew this fool, said this fool was cool
 Said that his daddy was a mason with a major supply
 And I can get some thangs as long as I buy 5
 I really wasn't trippin cause I had the cash
 But if it goes down funky I'ma smoke yo' ass
 Hung up the phone and I was up, put the mill' on the tuck
 The speakerbox in the Chevy truck
 I'm at the spot a hundred G's, and my strap
 I done beeped this fool twice and he ain't call back
 Now where he at, schemin on Legit the Savage
 Wanna wrap me up and ride away with the cabbage
 Everybody startin to look like the FBI
 I'm hella paranoid dude, but now I'm hella high
 It ain't fly for this nigga from the H-I-double-L
 With no motherfuckin dope to sell
 [Chorus]
 [B-Legit:]
 I spend my last, ephedrine and some pirate's glass
 I got my mask, whippin up some dope fast
 Or a little {?} 57 is a rag
 Hydronic ash shit is known to keep the fiends blastin
 Mix together, cook it up on a Bronson burner
 Cause that fire have you higher than that Ike Turner
 Hours later, it's lookin good for this player
 Oil formed and I just got my third layer
 And if it's cool, yo' nigga yellin fuck the collar
 Fo' times my mail, with the sales an hour
 Jackin off my cash, buyin up hella toys
 And all I'm fuckin with is rich-ass white boys
 Took him out the glass but he lookin dirty white
 Washed him off with the acetone to get him right
 Who got a light, and when yo' nigga lit the flame
 He'll bam-boof with the roof, and e'rythang
 Am I to blame, fo' niggaz havin bad luck?
 Too much dirt, is that stoppin me from comin up?
 Well I don't know, but I'm po' and I need a few
 Got yo' boy stressed out, I got the D-Boy Blues
 [Chorus]