SUPER FLYGOD!
A yo, this shit legendary, I had left the Gucci peacoat stinky (stink)
I told him bust the duct, he cut it up the fuck that nigga thinking? (For real)
He lucky he ain’t diss me, cause my trigger finger itchy
Ripped at Carson daily why your shooter dropped the blicky
A yo, thousand dollar letterman, I’m heaven sent
I sent the drop, they put an amber out, booked for my penmanship (don’t shoot! )
Got a hella flaws, beretta wars
I’m from a city if you shine they cut you up with blowers, they say don’t test the boys
A yo, rolls Royce Culli’ tearing up the scеne
My shooter bare facеd, told him cover up with the Celine (designer on me)
Stacking from the floor to ceiling, if you could just please Believe me (please)
I tore the car up, the cherry turned black you should have seen it (doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot)
I’m rocking fear of god, that’s while my shooter rock adidas
I could tell that she was fiending off the work, the turtle’ showed her cleavers (the fuck?)
The Mac 11 spray, the .30 sing like
Jesus day
Tie everybody up, somebody stole the yay (no way)
Cooking rocks, mixing soda up in cooking pots
My mom ain’t see me in a year, she say I changed a lot (she say I changed)
I ain’t gon ever stop, that’s when I’m top and whipping drops
You beat the work, I switched the pots, my shooter hate the Glock (for real)
You beat the work, I switched the pots, my shooter hate the Glock
Always been the young nigga getting in trouble
Trauma got me sipping dirty, filling styrofoams by the double
The streets had me going crazy, 30 days in my head getting no bread almost had me slanging lead
Keep your head up young nigga, the streets hot but get your profit money up though
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