B-Boy Stance Songtext
von Cassidy

Chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants

Chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants
I′m fresh to death, I'm fresh to death
I′m fresh to death, I'm fresh to death
I said I'm chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants
I′m fresh to death, I′m fresh to death
I'm fresh to death, I′m fresh to death


Fresh to death, dressed to impress
Fresh for real, nigga dressed to kill
I'm the best for real, I was blessed with skills
The FS in my necklace still
I′m a threat for real, I come at niggas necks for real
Trying to build my success, got me stressed for real
I'm a game I respect ′cause I'm extra real
And I'm extra fly, you just extra high
If it wasn′t for them drugs you′d be extra shy
Knowing if I throw them slugs you gon' testify
F the extra shit, get the extra clip
I get some extra lip, just expect to die
I′ll put a hole in your head 'cause I hold bread
And my lawyer Johnny Copper an old head
Clappin′ the pound, I ain't pattin′ the gown
And I stay strapped, man I got my gat on me now
I'm just

Chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants
I'm fresh to death, I′m fresh to death
I′m fresh to death, I'm fresh to death
I said I′m chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants
I'm fresh to death, I′m fresh to death
I'm fresh to death, I′m fresh to death


I get it poppin' on the block like a B-boy
If you cop a couple of rocks you get a free boy
You could take a couple of shots and get a keloid
If you try to take what I got or stick me boy
See boy, trying to fuck around with me boy
Your wrist like fucking a bitch with no seed boy
I'm a G boy, get smoked by the P boy
Coke by the key boy, got dope in the E boy
Me boy, I′m ′bout to take the industry over
Like for war we was meant to be soldiers
I sat back for years while I draft cats pretend to be Hova
Pretend to be B.I.G., pretend to be Pac, pretend to be hot
But all that pretending gon' eventually stop
And the slugs gon′ eventually pop
'Cause all the real thugs in the box or the penitentiary ock
V.I.P. looking like a penitentiary block
When I′m

Chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants
I'm fresh to death, I′m fresh to death
I'm fresh to death, I'm fresh to death
I said I′m chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants
I′m fresh to death, I'm fresh to death
I′m fresh to death, I'm fresh to death

I′m fresh to death, like a million bucks
My Benz got big rims and my ceiling lift up
Depending on how I'm feeling might be willing to truck
Either way the chicks still on my nuts
You know what I′m saying I ain't playing
With them niggas that be feeling they tough
I ain't a killer but you still will get touched
I network, sweatshirt with the hood, got the steel in the tuck
And my little man filling the dutch while I chill in the cut
All my lean chicks feeling my stance
Chinese print on the jeans, chicks feeling my pants
And I got the steel in my pants, don′t grind on me
I can′t dance I got the nine on me
The Heckler & Koch mami, fresh from the box mami
Got your punani wet 'cause I′m fresh to the socks mami
Fresh from the block mami, so I'm making it fun
See life a bitch but I′m making her cum and I'm

Chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants
I′m fresh to death, I'm fresh to death
I'm fresh to death, I′m fresh to death
I said I′m chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants
I'm fresh to death, I′m fresh to death
I'm fresh to death, I′m fresh to death
Chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants
I'm fresh to death, I′m fresh to death
I'm fresh to death, I'm fresh to death
I said I′m chilling in the club in my B-boy stance
My hoodie on with my gun in my pants
I′m fresh to death, I'm fresh to death
I′m fresh to death, I'm fresh to death