Fuller's Code

[Intro – (ad-libs echo through reverb)] Yeah… (uh) Jefferson County born, Los Santos raised. That cold February breath made a king out the cage. Fuller code, homie. (Yeah) They talk like they know him — they don’t know shit. [Verse 1] Look— Born to a w*r he ain’t start, no peace in his crib, Mama noddin’ on the couch, daddy split where he live. Whole world said “broken,” he just sharpened the edge, Grew up stealin’ cars, now he profit off the pledge. He was sixteen, ridin’ hot in a bucket, Learned the gears of survival, shift it fast, then duck it. Sureño blue on his rag, in them alleys he bled, Got baptized by the block, now the streets his bed. ’09 caught a case, they said “life ain’t fair,” He said “bet,” hit the yard, made a throne right there. Tank gave the nod, Stomper showed the blade, Nazi ink dripped black when the debt got paid. Turned riots to stock moves, moves into bread, Caught Warren’s eye — that’s AB fed. Now he playin’ chess while they out here roll dice, He don’t pray for forgiveness, he just charge a price. Smuggle lines cross borders, cars like ghosts, VIN scratched clean, put the Benz on boats. Never talk on phones, he learned that quick, ‘Cause the Feds love paper, but they hate that slick. [Hook – (layered vocals, deep West Coast bass)] From the pen to the block, he the code they quote, Every word from his mouth like a m****r note. Got dirt on his hands, got ice in his soul, But the streets still whisper — that’s Fuller Code. Yeah. He the reason they ride, the reason they fold, B***d and business — same story retold. Ain’t no saints in the city, just kings and foes, Every line he wrote, that’s the Fuller Code. [Verse 2] Came home twenty-three, parole on his neck, But he smiled like “watch me rebuild this check.” Linked up with the Barons, pipes loud in the rain, Meth smoke and leather — that’s business and pain. Sureños still loyal, they remember his drive, Said “G’s back home,” and the block revived. Turned boost jobs into brands, export to the south, Luxury rides, same route, same mouth. Kiara on the phone like “please slow down,” He said “if I stop now, they’ll g*n me down.” Told his daughter through glass, “your daddy gon’ rise,” She ain’t blink — she just got his eyes. Now he got bikers movin’ weight, hitters on retainer, Got the city under wraps like a personal container. Every handshake silent, every dollar clean, He the man you call when you don’t want seen. Feds watch from drones, can’t map that brain, ‘Cause the hustle ain’t greed, it’s embedded in pain. AB respect him — said he earned his bones, Now he speak in codes like cellular tones. [Hook – (repeat with harder percussion drop)] From the pen to the block, he the code they quote, Every word from his mouth like a m****r note. Got dirt on his hands, got ice in his soul, But the streets still whisper — that’s Fuller Code. Yeah. He the reason they ride, the reason they fold, B***d and business — same story retold. Ain’t no saints in the city, just king