Hell, life, we ain’t never gonna die.
Michael Corleone, presidential rolling on,
I’ve got a closet full of jorden fouls pending ones,
Type they want, the type of drugs they own,
I’ve got dope right here, these dope tracks are mine.
Got dope, boy, right here by, got six outside, four at my mom’s crib, she stole them every night
I’m underground, but the word is I’m getting kind of bad,
Meaning riding a trade, repell it.
We puffin’ ‘em, I come up with, running with,
Don’t run with these bitches, outstanding in front of black six’s
Taking pictures when I’m bad, this fucked up,
About a momma, that money piranha, for a dollar, I swear
That dick divide on another woman whole body,
The boy tell you all about it,
High clack mean I’m in it,
By spitting about chilling with my partners,
I just need you to pass me that lighter, lifer
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