Letras
Pop the bottle leave ya sauce leaking
Demigods with ya false teaching, just the lost preaching
Bend the corner, hear the car screeching
A nice life until ya moms grieving, baby moms screaming
Half a mil, why the boy thieving, booger sugar got the lord geeking, its gonna cost reaching
Heard ya tape ain't hear a bar decent, scrape the plate, it need more seasoning
Hot or cold, knock em off the fence
Fuck boxing, put u in a box, bullets hitting on em like Errol Spence
Why ask the price if you ain't here to spend
The work fire, watch Tim dance when lit the stem
Break it down
This ain't rap this is facts nigga
Coping pounds pack dealer, swear my favorite rapper is a vac sealer
Tryna get my bag bigger, but won't hesitate to clap niggas
Fuck a twitter, the corener to tag niggas
Badd
2pac talks
Smokers churpin they want a certain batch
I'll have my shooters shooting where your curtains at
You, not a boss where your workers at
Niggas with me catching bodies like a circus act, really though
I slide through buff I got Badd with me
Told em he good I got that bag with me
And every hammer got a 30 round mag with me
I got my pack in the lab with me, sipping out the pint like I got chad with me
I'm up in sax with my Brooklyn bitch with mad giffies
How you winning out the same day that's a tad iffy
I was never good at math but count up cash quickly
Stash 50, 50 in the blick who tryna clash with me
In my hood, I make sure everybody eats
I creep through the back door low while everybody sleep
It's murder, I leave bloodstains on everybody sheets
And make sure at the funeral that they lay everybody neat