It's the ambassador of rap's massacre

Preserved with my chest poked out

Like I just walked out of Attica, swerve

Homie, I ain't mad at ya, do what you do

Sick of them t**s jeans, but I don't want to bat at ya

Stay in my lane, me and fame, the antidote

An OG, dang, double visions of Earl Manigault

Not just a hot song, not just a sick quote

Not just your local s**t, not just above dope, MO