Yeah, man. Yup. This young beast. Niggas better stop faking. Yeah. Check me out. You suckers

hate it. Whoever said I wouldn't make it in the presence of a young G. You see, I got

greatness. Real recognizing I didn't have to fake it to make it. Riding with a dirty

banger cleaning plates for a living. Thank you. Say my grace and keep pushing. Don't blink. Don't

budge. And I might not shoot you. You see this flame in my pupils. I don't really do music,

nigga. I stay on the block with a fold -out chopstick. Serves pulling up like, damn,

who's that kid? That's beast a hitter. Look, cause the minutes when he was 10 years old,

they killed his brother on Christmas five years before that time. The poem was a victim

and he guys told himself he was going to get even. So now they all grown up and now he's

riding for reasons. Get the fuck on the ground. If you don't want to stop bringing on Brenda,

I'm only scaring kids and old geezers for what? Oh, I should send them to class. No,

you spare your bitch ass. Let's see how my family thrive. We made it though.

And I stayed with some deli and praying every day. I bump into who did it?

Dan did old faggot ass bitch, nigga. I'ma kill you. And I swear to God, whoever riding with him

can get it. Get smacked when a Drake rip. I could care less if you was riding with your BM.

This mentally sound is something that I'm holding it up. Stutter, stepping,

legal brains all in the open. First shot down the target and rearrange the whole

Oh,