| Yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| Yeah
|
| Yeah, So
|
| Headshots, nigga
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| Straight up out the lion’s den, he is I and I am him
|
| Overdosing daily, when the fuck I’m gon' die again
|
| Name a nigga that I’m flyer than
|
| You and your set, run and get wet
|
| H’z the clique and my nigga we all at your neck
|
| Fuck all the cops, fuck all the opps
|
| Nigga we sit at the top
|
| Lit up the pot, count the gwap
|
| Cherry red beamer the drop
|
| She keep on fucking with that powder her nose full of snot
|
| We take your place, me and my niggas eat like it or not
|
| I wrote this shit here in Cobain’s garage
|
| With a gauge sitting next to me
|
| Got a spanish Courtney Love on X
|
| Tryna have sex with me, it’s what I created
|
| I’m jaded off the fame, you know my fucking name
|
| Was flipping oxycotin when you hit your crack phase
|
| Go to your hood and flex on you like the smack days
|
| I catch these rappers at Starbucks, spit in they frappe
|
| Pussy, yo, yo
|
| This blunt is smelling like dead body, try me
|
| Tough guys they just turn into robberies
|
| I’m God, body like John Gotti
|
| Rolling with the mob, yeah
|
| Get a yopping, tell that nigga pop off, pussy
|
| This blunt is smelling like
|
| Dead body
|
| Smelling like
|
| Dead body
|
| Smelling like
|
| Dead body |