Nigga
Don't get it twisted, homie
Remember who the fuck I am, nigga
Nah fuck that, lemme show you
Two-hundred round!
(First gear)
I make a murder with two hundred rounds of venom
I get in 'em
Make you wish you had a wish
Your bitches super soak in denim
I be in some sicker shit
You wanna bitch about it
Bring your bitch around
And we gon see if she will let you in
And I make her friend and take her end
Up on the rubber undercover
When I smother anyone
Give me a minute and some butter
I don't talk about it
Better be about it
Never doubt a motherfucker
Who done spent a gang of time up in the gutter
(Switch gears!)
Puttin' the work in, ain't no buster
Feelin' the rush and put 'em in dust
On top of the roof I'm ready to bust
I'm choppin' 'em all into minimal nuts
And droppin' them all into the bus
I fill the streets up with they death, Beretta issue
Will I bitch around and put you on the bus?
Quit your bitchin' and your dissin'
Don't nobody even listen
But to mention that you wish
You bustin' back to pay attention
But you weep before you speak
You better be thinkin' about the demon
Comin' up into the house to meet you
With the blade and cut the tension
Open 'em up when they mumble a word about the Brainsick
I behave like I ain't got no common sense
I mean I'm really on the fence
I'll turn your meat up into mince
I'm makin' samples out you bitches
I'll be damned if I'mma let you go to sleep
Before I rinse your blood up on my hand
I take you deep into the voodoo ritual
You probably thought about it,
"Shit, I'll diss him in a video
And maybe he'll respond and boost my music"
And I lose a couple thousand followers
And quit your job because you finna blow!
