Lyrics
Lord protect me from my friends (Lord)
Still keep the F&N on my deathbed
Can't trust the rats around bread like a crystal meth head
Can't shit where you rest your head
Can't burn the candle from end to end, you dig?
Been had heroin in the pen but the pigs couldn't pin it on the kid
This shit is rigged, might catch a kingpin bid
For just thinking this big, and it was said I might be tweaking a bit
Shit, prehistoric skin on the Louis Loafs (Louis Loafs)
Two kilos, no dookie ropes
Still pull 'em though, still hit the bull on his nose and bulldoze
Get chose by some thick pitbull hoes, beautiful souls
Next thing you know shorty tripping like Glenn Close (been trippin')
Just when I thought we was getting close
Don't tip the boat and get your fist soaked
Raised so many kids in the biz I'm feeling
Like Phillip from Diff'rent Strokes
Talk, can't milk a pimp, give me the guilt trip
Convince me to trick on you, take you on a guilt trip
Eat through the bills I had like some silverfish
It's disingenuous like them filtered pics
You used the real real niggas and claim you innocent
But due to your scent we can't even be friends with benefits
Shit, I'm not a dimwit
Even in a room when it's dimly lit you can see that I'm really rich
I'm really with the shits
Could steal or steal in my Givenchy trench
In the Benz listening to Mitchy Slick
Many men wish death upon me like 50 Cent
By the time they find Slime body it probably stink, uh