I used to think about immature things
You know, like, do you love me?
Do you want me?
Are you gonna call me like you said you would?
Is this really your real phone number?
Yeah, you see-through
Bite from a snake, lethal
Woke up rockin’ Evisu
If you don’t wanna stay, why keep you?
In the rain where I leave you
If you ain’t gang, why would I piece you?
Like, what’s up?
More money, more love
AP, two-tone, I was outside with that chrome
Maybach ready to go
Look at my neck, its covered in stones
Look at my yard, its covered in bones
King of the hill, all of my family is royalty nigga, you better kneel
Don’t gotta talk ’bout respect in this shit, you know the real
Don’t gotta talk ’bout my blessings and shit, we know the real
I don’t want that fake love, it ain’t real
It ain’t much to say, love, it’s 2AM
I’m crazy ’bout your love
Go over and above
You know I’m pourin’ up, smoking on the gas
I’m a demon in the nighttime, leave them in the past
When I fuck that bitch she call me dad
She say that’s the best love that she ever had
Shit, you gotta get in your bag
You gotta get to the cash, you gotta get it in digital dash
Steppin’ on shit, keep a Glock and mask
Turnin’ your plaid tie-dye
Throwin’ up bands in G5, double C bag on TY
Don’t wanna see him reach in
It’s late night and we creepin
This her class but I teach her
Road kill shit in my ox fur
We could go get you a doctor
Better go get you a perc
That boy in pain, he hurt
Leave that lil bitch in the dirt
Put that lil bitch on a shirt
Gonna let shit fly high
RIP Spooky, RIP 9
See an opp man drop me the dime
We ain’t worried bout shit or time
Let a boy stank in hard times
Psycho out of my mind
I think I’m Picasso I’m painting your ride
Red rum, hundred shots, pussy you done
Run up the bread it was crumbs
Now I got a damn green thumb
Now I got a pair of green lungs
My momma told me the devil a lie
My auntie in here speaking tongue
I’ll get to the top I’m a lunge
I know I’m the shit but they’ll never plunge
My Draco got kicked so you better run
I’m taking a pic with my bitch in the sun
That boy Michael Vick, that boy like to run
I’m out with the gang, no clique no squad
You know we the gang you know we the mob
