Price St.
Fuckboy

You allegedly offered my baby some cash for a smash,
Talkin’ brick through a windshield, send it straight through the glass.
Said somebody owed you money, so you wanted it fast,
But you sent another man while you stayed out the blast.

Saint Charles and Cranford, blue house on the block,
Audi backed in, said you wanted that window to pop.
Talkin’ money that they owed you, putting schemes on the clock,
But if you really built like that, why you needing a proxy to knock?

Tried to pull Dark Chocolate into somebody’s beef,
Put a price on destruction then stepped back underneath.
That ain’t power, that’s panic dressed up as belief,
Big talk from the sidewalk, little action beneath.

Then my baby hit your crib, not once but twice,
Came straight to your doorstep, gave you two chances precise.
Hyundai sitting parked while you stayed out of sight,
Hiding back behind the door like the daylight might bite.

All that mouth on the net, but in person you switch,
Big gangster on Facebook, at the doorway you glitch.
Had two chances to step out, still ain’t move one inch,
That’s a punk-ass move from a certified bitch.

Then you posted me and Edwin, tried to turn us to a joke,
“Got him another one,” you said, fishing hard for the smoke.
Tried to label my baby just to give your page a poke,
But the punchline fell apart the second everybody woke.

That’s my man, that’s my baby, ain’t no secret to expose,
You were digging for a scandal you don’t actually know.
Camera pointed at us while your own problems grew,
Funny how the biggest gossip got the most shit to do.

Then my baby called your line just to press you on the lie,
That number looked familiar, had me asking myself why.
Then I thought back to the moment when I walked right by,
Caught that stiff one-eye in your pants, couldn’t miss it if I tried.

Now I’m not saying what it means, I’m just saying what I seen,
But the number and the moment made the picture look clean.
You stay watching every move, every man up on my team,
So whatever got you bothered, keep it out my fucking scene.

Why you watching every brother standing right by my side?
Why you studying my business with your curiosity wide?
You can whisper, you can guess, you can speculate and hide,
But another man’s sexuality ain’t yours to decide.

Price St. fuckboy, always chasing a scene,
Price St. fuckboy, always watching my team.
Got my baby on camera like you discovered a dream,
Whole time that’s my man, not the story that you mean.

Then there’s stories from your past people whisper about,
About behavior in a bedroom when the lights all went out.
At your ex’s people’s house, allegations came out,
Saying boundaries got crossed while somebody slept throughout.

I won’t dress an accusation like a judgment from court,
But when stories keep returning, people question the report.
Private lines should stay respected, that’s the simplest retort,
Maybe clean your own backyard before reviewing my sport.

And they say child-support numbers got your wallet looking thin,
While you spend your time online trying to watch where I been.
Got responsibilities calling, but you scrolling again,
Trying to police another household while ignoring your kin.

If the records say you owe it, let the records do the speak,
Children need their support every month, every week.
That’s a grown-man obligation, not a rumor or leak,
So maybe handle what is yours before you study my street.

You keep digging in my bedroom, keep observing my life,
While allegations about women keep returning with strife.
I’m not calling every claim proven, certified, or precise,
But putting hands on women ain’t strength, power, or nice.

Real strength ain’t intimidation, real strength ain’t control,
Real men don’t use fear just to dominate a soul.
So before you judge my relationship and play some fake role,
Take a look at your own conduct before losing control.

You worried about me,
Worried about Edwin,
Worried about Facebook,
Worried who I’m sleeping with.

But when Dark Chocolate pulled up,
Twice at your door,
Hyundai still sitting there,
You ain’t want smoke anymore.

Price St. fuckboy, always chasing a scene,
Price St. fuckboy, always watching my team.
Got my baby on camera like you discovered a dream,
Whole time that’s my man, not the story that you mean.

Price St. fuckboy, better handle your lane,
Price St. fuckboy, stop performing for fame.
Every rumor you spread keeps returning your name,
And the spotlight you wanted finally turned your way.

Audi backed in, blue house sitting tight,
You allegedly wanted that windshield gone that night.
But when somebody came knocking and the moment got real,
Suddenly all that big talk forgot how tough supposed to feel.

Before you talk about mine, get your own world right,
Stop watching everybody else from morning to night.
You wanted all the attention, now the hook got a bite,
Price St. fuckboy, now you got the mic.