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I’m hearing static in my phone, they got a track on me You was trying to do a song, I got this mac on me I asked him, “shot him in his dome?”, he said, “facts, homie” You did enough for the set, just relax, homie Drought time, I kept it real, I put a tax on him In the meeting, it went sour, I pulled my strap on him I’m through the roof and then the sky, ain’t no cap on me It got it locked but I ain’t locked, ain’t no latch on me They only bring it to me hard when I get the work I’m pulling babies out the pot like it’s giving birth Traffic stop, bubble guts when I’m getting searched Emptied the FN on him and it didn’t jerk I’m using Sun Tzu tactics, war is an art Riding with two birds like it’s Noah’s Ark Them suckers landed every bullet when they hit the [?] I was taught only broke niggas get it hard And I was taught life lessons while behind the bars (I swear I was taught life lessons behind that bitch) OBH Records, it’s more like an army I blow a dime in 20 seconds, I’m fresh out of Barney’s Allah, protect me from the friends that want to harm me On my name alone, he strapped, I [?] you out this [?] Told the lookout just whistle, when they come, alarm me Life’s a game, it’s sunny now, but it just was stormy Letras de cancionesHe got killed, he put his gun up, it just was on him Look, every charge was violence when I caught a case I told Skinny go to sleep ‘cause his lawyer paid I got money in my safe that’s my daughter’s age Was kicked out of high school when I bought a gauge My old head beat the case, he found loopholes I was 12 shooting out in my school clothes I send the nigga on a hit and paid him 2 O’s Facetimed Dark Lo, we only use codes The plug pitched at me, I’m like Pujols Get rich and stay rich, only two goals Fuck the story, what’s the moral, I’m trying to kept it cordial Investigated, then he told, he couldn’t keep his morals Keep your pussy when we link, we’ll just keep it oral Don’t come around me acting weird, we’ll just keep it normal Closed casket, your mom crying if I creep up on you Eulogies and sad songs, I’ll pit the deacon on you Homework a piece of cake, I spent the weekend on you How he kill his own blood for a half a brick? Grave shifts, it was my pursuit of happiness Was shot 10 times, ain’t know what was happening Making bad bitches take a knee like Kapernick Chopper in the van but it wasn’t our plans Interrogation room, I took the Rosa Parks stance Fingertips numb, come from cutting hard grams I bet every bullet land and that is with my off hand I told [___] hit me when it’s [___] I’m in the loft chilling, this is God’s plan When it’s war, it’s no pauses, I go to different causes You need a feature, I need a bag, I’m talking Santa Clauses Now all I do is win, I couldn’t stand the losses Bagging dope is great work and badland’s the office FedEx and Percocets, I hope it land in Boston I done ate with the Bloods, I done ran with the Crips Walked around with Shawn Kemp number on my hips I got a hundred men, I pray that none of them flip [?] jump in my bag, you’re getting one with the zip I done loss all my conscience with the loss of my mother Started popping Percocets in all different colors It all come to double when the soft start to bubble Tre pound Sig Sauer will turn his scar to a puzzle From Letras Mania