[Verse 01: Rod Wave]

Fell in love with my cup, it’s just me and my drank
So much pain in my heart got me numb to the brain

And the crackers on our bumpers, shit ain’t sweet as you think

Loyalty for royalty, I did it all for the gang
Now here’s a message for the youth, it ain’t worth

Niggas police, it ain’t worth it
Yeah, we stand on that business, fuck around, tie up a witness

My past ain’t perfect, the judge handing out jersey numbers

Mistakes is nothing, you live and you learn
I was tryna get some sleep, so I been sipping that syrup

Preaching to my young niggas to lay off the pills
My baby mama text my phone like, “You got some nerve”

Know I comе up out that bottom, I came straight from the curb

Youngin asking me advicе to get his paper mature
My mouth told him chase his dream, but the younger child in me screamed

“Tell your big homie to front you half a bird”
You scared, then go to church, if you scared, them crackers’ll give you life, you life

Okay, my brother back in jail, my songs leaking out, I am not alright

In 2018, my partner was eighteen, they gave him twenty years, twenty years

If you eighteen with twenty, that mean he got more time than he fucking lived

[Chorus]

Preaching to Lil Keed, I told him try to make it to the league, get a jersey number

It ain’t nothing in these streets, graveyards and jersey numbers, jersey numbers

It ain’t nothing in these streets, but graveyards and jersey numbers, jersey numbers

[Verse 02: Rylo Rodriguez]

Bro calling from the jail, he say his lawyer swapped him out

I was hollering at lil’ Yayo, they gave him a dub and he did five

Still shot him with his slides on, bro institutionalized
I’m just happy that he survived

For anything to get you free, you I’m picking sides
Know a couple people who beat the cheese, will you still be the guys

clean your laundry, laundry
Shoot the way get a lunch tray, lunch tray

They’ll give you a judge and I’ma judge won’t put you in the gang

They be treating us like a jeweler, can’t wait to put us in some chains

On facetime with lil’ TJ, say his mama was acting strange
Said his brother turned his back since he been in, I felt his pain

Seen a gangster go to jail and fuck a sissy
He wouldn’t control himself, the first day out I was back to sipping

Niggas tell me don’t get high, I should try and make a living
But I tell ’em I’m a hustler, and I’d rather make a killing

[Chorus]

Preaching to Lil Keed, I told him try to make it to the league, get a jersey number (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

It ain’t nothing in these streets, graveyards and jersey numbers, jersey numbers (Yeah)

It ain’t nothing in these streets, but graveyards and jersey numbers, jersey numbers
Uh