Storytelling

99, premature young nigga barely made it by, I seen my brother Ken in blood That shit made me cry Young nigga been thru hella shit was born in 99 And if you felt my fucking pain would you make it by How would you feel, if them niggas slid, them glocks booming, you not a shooter So quit the cappin, just keep it music A businessman, I touch money only and fuck groupies Givenchy gone be on mama Rolex for pops too Bro finger itching, make a move and brody quick to shoot He got the glizzy with him, got extensions looking like a ruler We only aim for the brain, I’m nailing his medulla Leave him froze from belt down I call that boy Medusa Stunting hard on these niggas, but I’m not Buda, all about my cheese Ain’t tryna beef, I’m tryna make Gouda Send a nigga to god, you better thank the shooter, only aim for the brain We leaving niggas clueless I lost some niggas to the streets so you don’t feel my pain 100 shots in this bitch we finna make it rain I got my glock, bro got his glock we finna catch a stain, we got the uppercase choppa Hit em with the K, hmmph He caught a shot, his ass delirious my hands always came from the mud I’m really curious Getting fast money, brody dead I’m really furious, easing all this pain Niggas gotta take some medicine Percs ease me up, but I ain’t slow I really got a gift, leave a nigga with a bow tie And a broken limb How many times I gotta tell em, please show my respect I really poured a four, I ran out, please call the connect I’m really plugged with some shooters, tell em up the tec, will ice a nigga Put em on skates, now we finna sesh Put yo mans in my wood, yeah I’m facing death They left em with some sharded glass bones, but he ain’t taking meth Rollie flooded with diamonds, yeah it got baguettes I’m up on you low class clowns go get a fucking check Feed a nigga the pump, like he got asthma Brody on the road flipping bows like a house crasher Hit yo bitch like the Quon, but I’m not Kasher Aiming up top why the fuck you got a flak jacket Armstrong in the work, but I’m not Darrell, turn a nigga head to an Arrow Like he from Kansas Brody fiending for the blues, like he from St Louis You the type to beef over pussy shit that’s yo coochie Drenched with Gucci cologne got yo mans fuming I don’t give a fuck about this bitch, she just a loose groupie Bitch, I bought the blick, yeah I’m a loose cannon I’ll turn a nigga to a ghost, like a white phantom Shoot a nigga in his stomach yeah he lost plasma Put a nigga on a pacemaker, give him chest fractures Still touching blue cheese, let me run it up I ain’t gone lie you sound slow you tryna get the ups Free my niggas boxed in, it’s like an uppercut This 40 rearrange yo face like a hockey puck Still touching blue cheese, let me run it up I ain’t gone lie you sound slow you tryna get the ups Free my niggas boxed in, it’s like an uppercut This 40 rearrange yo face like a hockey puck Yeah we still high speeding, headshot shit the nigga think he dreaming Ima spend a check up at Neiman’s Sak’s Fifth, shit I love blue cheesing I lost a couple niggas it won’t be the same Give all the money that I made just to make it change Shit we still finna make it rain This 40 got some kickback like some bad aim Still fucking niggas hoes, bitch I could never change I can’t hang with these niggas, I swear y’all so lame Y’all quick to tell and point fingers Call em Rocaine These carties on my face, white as fuck like some cocaine