peddler's blues

have we got a tough guy here?

have we got a tough guy from the street?

please don't hurt no one

with his cute little chicken shit boots on

and his cute little chicken shit hat

and his cute little chicken shit girlfriends

ridin' along in back

i'm out in babylon bustin my gun

blastin yo ghetto

with my fake sound

fuckin for fun

killin children

on my way down

weighin a ton. on these streets i'm so

heavy that i can't stand up. feels like my neck is in a

yoke tied to coke

cold flowin for the cash crop

business as per usual. this shit ain't go'n ever stop

bakin soda's open some niggas'll have to die

you fuckin with my money your mother might have to cry

black tears. my will shakes spears and spear chuckers gonna

kick the bucket if they think of fuckin with my duckets

life is worth a diamond or maybe a private island

whatever to keep me smilin and my woman lookin fly

get you high and be your downfall

be your last call in the

middle of the night for a pound of that white. i'll

bring you that big fish. close your eyes and make a wish

and taste the killer's kiss

sweet bavarian barium

carry them to the other side as the crow flies

the temple virgin cries as i baptize her holy thighs

water in your eyes

your nose is the desert floor

the oil slick snakes in my belly cry baby give me more

my yellow cake bake your city to a flake of snow & ash

i'm the lawnmower

nigga

you the grass

come and get a taste of this terrifying

death-spewing

money-flavored

dust-covered angel from the underworld

twirl a girl down by the river

make her shiver with

mycoal hollow eyes. watch the water rise

the streets are himalayan

more snow than the highest peaks

more rocky than balboa

more gritty than dirty beats

i'm primo the way i cut it

i'm comin in under budget

i triple back my stack. you come close

but couldn't touch it

fuck it. i'm done talkin

you done heard enough

stack your ones

put your guns up and call my bluff