flyin through the district
my swag's in the weed bag
hang out where the g's at
where the b's and the c's at?
you fall back or you ease back
but a real homie'll rise up
i'm too old for the dumb shh
the top down with the blunt lit
i'm in the juice game and the book game
got my mass and my cook game
it's midnight but we 7-30
got a pocket full of them benji's
still feel the pain from the cocaine frenzy
no gun or knife then i'm throwin the two-piece
cop me a new pair of kicks if my shoes crease
lines and holes just like a loose leaf
but i'ma tell you straight up then
but you know that the ghost trap
back room from the back room with a dope track
as i refined to combine with the finest finds of a titan
vikings enticed by full moons on islands
filled with the loot that eluded troops of a previous tyrant
and preachin the science to help me sleep and reap the defiance
my voice is heard through leagues of the darkness
i be so deep i preach through a carcass
the best as since they dreamed of a phoenix
i broke in the earth when i spoke in reverse
i wrote with compressed quota
and grew a money tree in custody of chris and dragon company
my cutlery is comfortably the sharpest of the underlings
and don't compare to no one
hotter than the whole sun
chris rivers got the potions
type of guy you'll never meet and you'll sill have me in memories
this guerrilla rap right here
keep a razor under the tongue and slice with the ox
you be in the cypher with cops
but i'm nicer with glocks
and roll four-five-six with the dice on your blocks
my hand speed move at 200 nautical knots
the rhyme is an audible shot
but this is just a hobby to him
smokin bob marley with him
you'll be countin bodies with him
john gotti was just godly to him
probably connected to south philly robberies with him
your on-and-on cypher probably gin
lookin like you got the monster
the darker that the sorcerer been
that's the opposite of life
that's the start of your end