| It’s East Side until my ashes in a gold vase
|
| Ride downtown in my city bumpin' Ghostface
|
| Fuck the police, bitch
|
| I feel like I’m O’Shea
|
| Mental health problems nigga I know I’m not okay
|
| Spillin' Pinot Grigio while I count up this bread
|
| I like my bitches pussy bald and my presidents dead
|
| I shit in the booth, these hoes gon' lick my dick in the coupe
|
| I got these niggas scared to drop like that Bishop in Juice
|
| I wear the mask with the butterfly knife don’t let me fuck up your life
|
| I put your heart in a bucket of ice
|
| I might be in a five star with a couple of dykes
|
| It’s Lord Benton, ill nigga cuffin' the mic
|
| Niggas get shot everyday
|
| He be aight, B
|
| Gold Jesus piece hid over the polo white fleece
|
| Fly niggas stay laced in vintage Versace
|
| Need a stronger aerosol to mask the scent of the body
|
| It’s the God nigga
|
| Money over bitches
|
| Power over cowards
|
| Niggas plottin' so I bathe with the shotty in the shower
|
| Homicide investigate a body every hour
|
| Paranoid like smoke’ll prolly buy an 8th of sour
|
| The soundtrack to a killa’s last breath
|
| Up at Follies blowin' bread 'til ain’t no fuckin' cash left, nigga
|
| Never let no wet pussy fuck your dough up
|
| Toast to the dead niggas, pour up
|
| Blood money in the ziplock so it don’t mold up
|
| I feel like Mitch in the cherry red Beamer bumpin' Cold Crush
|
| Second childhood, niggas grow up
|
| The God in bitches go nuts
|
| I’m stuntin' like Money Mayweather
|
| The cash is way better than being broke
|
| Get topped in the back of the grey Tesla
|
| Lord have mercy the wolves are hungry and thirsty
|
| Screw the barrel on the mouth of the 30, arrivederci
|
| It’s the God, nigga |