In the fast lane I'm getting money
Run it up, run it up
And I ain't no way on earth you take it from me
Let's get this understood
On the block I love my hood
Every night I fight for dollars
In this bed I grind about it
My bitch gonna find the problem
Pay her no mind about it
My bills paid in advance and dinner not to be dine about it
No time to cry about it
And it ain't no backing out
Extension out the mac, blat, blat, blat and back it up
Real street nigga man,
Street nigga won't flip see the jake, see the fence
How we came up in that bottle
Drop top, top, drop free my nigga let's play
When he touch down I got it
Pledge allegiance to the to the money column
2000 rackses on a fucking column
Bitch you with don't give a fuck about it
Fuck the good but nothing done about it
Carter slept with number traffic rhyming
No comprende conte we are thousand
Coke on a table fuck ‘em mama
Pouring syrup like a fucking farmer
Faucet orange nigga prolly snoring
Nigga luca present got the auction going
Plays the floor I had a daily dawn
You wanna pack the toast I wanna pop the floor
Shake back, rerun, shake back
Diddy in the kitchen water whippin nigga take that
Gay strap waste that, sitting on the step
No bulletproof vest where the apes at, ate that
Stay cooking nigga straight pussy
Try to take it from me I'ma face book them
Hit the line, lido got 5 niggas
He's a supply grill, I supply chickens
In the fast lane I'm getting money
Run it up, run it up
And I ain't no way on earth you take it from me
Let's get this understood
On the block I love my hood
Every night I fight for dollars
In this bed I grind about it
My bitch gonna find the problem
Pay her no mind about it
My bills paid in advance and dinner not to be dine about it
No time to cry about it
And it ain't no backing out
Extension out the mac, blat, blat, blat and back it up
Real street nigga, man
Came up on the dumb shit
Ak with the jay clip
Trade hate in the club with me
You can show love but don't fuck with me
Little rocks and a plastic bag
We was chasing cars that was back to back
One of the few who's reps is figure
For only know it some activists
Trash bags right now I'm texting for this
And I'm too strapped to relax
Two heats even know it's just me
And I fit in the front, big mac in the back
Got a bitch so bad all she do is neck
Told her put it in your night
Now I ride paper till she hate me like a fake bed
Hood rich real shit
I prolly look poor in a foreign
Me and ??? sit in the four one leader
Literally pouring the form
Afford to be on me, at 4 in the morning
Out of time just get a show
Speed, gotta get back though
I got court in the morning, true story
In the fast lane I'm getting money
Run it up, run it up
And I ain't no way on earth you take it from me
Let's get this understood
On the block I love my hood
Every night I fight for dollars
In this bed I grind about it
My bitch gonna find the problem
Pay her no mind about it
My bills paid in advance and dinner not to be dine about it
No time to cry about it
And it ain't no backing out
Extension out the mac, blat, blat, blat and back it up
Real street nigga, man
45 on my hit double
Through the projects like Jesse James
Flamed up, never changed up
Got the same block and same gang
4 dudes, zero zero I'm a hood hero
Off moving kilos in a tress spot
With them straps out
Bout 100 ounces in grid locks
Hot dog get the backdoor, got a haunted nigga on hood jo
Grab one of her affiliated
Got cash money knocking at my door
Hold up I don't trust nigga
If I show love I fucks with you
I grind hard with all star
With a pain lean in a foreign car
Real shit, all of my people on trill shit
Riding round screaming rock town
Like how do you feel bitch
In the fast lane I'm getting money
Run it up, run it up
And I ain't no way on earth you take it from me
Let's get this understood
On the block I love my hood
Every night I fight for dollars
In this bed I grind about it
My bitch gonna find the problem
Pay her no mind about it
My bills paid in advance and dinner not to be dine about it
No time to cry about it
And it ain't no backing out
Extension out the mac, blat, blat, blat and back it up
Real street nigga, man
Kevin Gates, born Kevin Gilyard, is an American rapper, singer, and entrepreneur born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, in 1986. After a youth marked by economic hardship and legal troubles, Gates began his musical career in the early 2000s, releasing independent mixtapes that garnered public attention. In 2013, he signed with the Bread Winners' Association collective and achieved growing success with albums like *The Luca Brasi Story* (2016) and *I'm Him* (2019). His music is characterized by introspective lyrics, often autobiographical, that explore themes of violence, drugs, love, and spirituality. Among his most notable tracks are "2 Phones", "Knocking on Your Door" and "Really Really". Gates is also known for his complex and controversial personality, which has led him to be both celebrated and criticized throughout his career.
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