| 12 Hunna on the beat
|
| DJ Flippp, make the money flip
|
| Ooh, ayy
|
| 14, 14, 14, yeah, yeah
|
| In rack city counting up the four
|
| I was trapping, getting it by my 'lone
|
| Rocket got them pints for the low
|
| Chris got the rocket, he gon' blow
|
| Murder what she wrote
|
| We came through and took her soul
|
| She want that dick then she get boned
|
| Rack city blowing dope, bitch
|
| She off the molly and the coke (Coke), bitch
|
| You wan' touch then you get poked (Poked), bitch
|
| Run my hood like the pope (Pope), bitch
|
| They thought I was dead but I’m still alive
|
| I just needed time to relax, bitch
|
| I just needed time, now I’m back, bitch
|
| The money coming faster than it ever did
|
| Please play this at my funeral
|
| If I die tomorrow, tell my mama that I’m sorry for the life I chose
|
| But this the life I chose
|
| Mama, I’m sorry
|
| This is the life for me
|
| Nobody loves me but me
|
| Nobody loves me but me
|
| I fucked my girl last week
|
| Told her get on her knees
|
| Then she sucked on my D
|
| Then that bitch hit the streets, she ain’t fuckin' with me
|
| No more, no more, no more, no more
|
| No more, no more, no more, no more (Yeah)
|
| No more, no more, no more, no more (Yeah)
|
| No more, no more, no more, no more (Snotty, blatt)
|
| I see more tombstones than the undertaker (Yeah)
|
| And if we fuck now we can’t cuddle later
|
| The chopper make roaches scatter, fuck a huddle breaker
|
| This MAC, I aim it at your face, I cannot make up
|
| Brrat, I got them pounds and that ain’t from Jamaica
|
| Smoke, this thing I’m shooting fuck up God’s creation
|
| Ah, you the best, who am I replacing?
|
| Woah, oh, that’s a vest? |
| Well it’s your mind I’m aimed at
|
| Scars of love from warfare with automatics
|
| Bullets burn like lava, chopper spitting volcanic
|
| Codeine and Percocets, spend a kidney and a liver
|
| Stupid bitch fuck me over, I get it, I still miss her, woah
|
| In rack city counting up the four
|
| I was trapping, getting it by my 'lone |