blam, blam, blam

yeah

l-o-x

i got 'em

machine

baby

look

word to the coke that in my shooter nose

beluga 2.0s in the coupe i drove

on the stoop in the cold movin' stupid o's

whip the fish before it even dried

deuce was sold

take a half

produce a whole when i use the stove

went from trappin' in pelle jackets to rockin' gucci clothes

that's why when you see me i'm with a group of hoes

bad bitches that look like karrueche

i'm used to those

bal harbor shoppin'

my pockets do be swole

cuban's gold

put my knife in your body

remove your soul

use your homie shirt to wipe my knife off

his blood splattered on my kev montclair

i stabbed him twice more

the fuck i'm takin' your advice for?

when they cut mama lights off

i started sellin' white soft

it's ironic the nigga they tried to write off was takin' the league by storm

i'm kinda like mars

wake up in the mornin' to a blunted sour

then i'm up in lust

i'm makin' money shower

you got money and respect

then you got fuckin' power

i'm rich but i clap a nigga over a hundred dollars

where i'm from

you keep the hammer tucked

niggas is foul

fuck around and get your nana bucked

grimy niggas'll stick santa though

kill rudolph

then eat 'em

you couldn't manage us

why you think niggas is comatose?

homie gave the other homie mama bag

now he got mad

gotta kill 'em with the mag 'cause she overdosed

if i gotta box

it's the 52 or the rope-a-dope

stuntin' in the drop

plottin' on the lot i could build on

cross me i'ma rock a nigga knot

i ain't thinkin' like your average nigga

i got carats off of carrots sellin' juice

peaceful yet a savage nigga

you could lie about cartel ties

well i'm the type of guy to leave the cartel tired

get the match and the gas

watch the cartel dive

i'll catch 'em slippin' in the gym and let a barbell fly

break his face with a plate like the ghost of charlie murphy

but i'm the real ghost

you ain't no charlie murphy

not in the comedic way

i'm the one who make paul and peter pay

9 millimeter spray

what you know about the trap bein' slow 'cause the grams bad?

but the plug want his dough so you pay for your man half

44 bulldog makin' your pants sag

i swim the swamp with a gator

i made it a handbag

they tell me i'm how hope look

them pots had to slow cook

stack of paper on my kitchen table look like notebooks

two shooters with you? we know them niggas

they both puss

roll through and i let this toast cook like rosewood

black soprano family

i probably should make the movie

pray over a brick while i'm slidin' a razor through 'em

back to back trips now i got my bitch draped in lou

i'm known for rock and a guitar like david bowie

yeah

i went against the fbi and crooked judges

when rappers start losin' limbs you know the butcher comin'

y'all still gassed off my rookie numbers

this the kid that's from a block that did westside gunn hoodie numbers

uh

i grew to be a hustler but i ran with thieves

you steal from the gang

i bet your hands'll bleed

i met in a plug in the feds who used to hand me ki's

we was like donovan mcnabb and andy reid

take me to your trap

i outta draft the plate

i fuck around and put my signature on a bag of h

y'all niggas usin' 12 12's and call it stackin' cake

when my niggas bag up

we usin' garbage bags and tape

let's go

agh