Killa weed grown in a coffin
Guaranteed gon’ get you coughin
If I ain’t got it Booka do
Go hit his line and get it off him
It’s just a image, you ain’t bosses
You on bitch shit, takin losses
Hittin licks I do this often
Bitch lick my dick til it soften
Ballin til the reaper callin, all in
Rest in peace to the fallen
N***as talkin like they on shit
Keep a 30, leave em crawling
Evil lurking, you don’t want it
Here a shirt, I’ll put you on it
Never had much so when I get rich I’m certainly gon flaunt it
Spit like fire, heat, lava
Burning 3rd degree I’m flowin
And I’m doper than that muhfuckin reefer you be smokin
Rollin, pouring up the potion
Blowin dope yo hoe is chokin
Cullerton and Miller, Ain’t nobody triller and you know it
We be posted
It don’t matter if it’s raining or it’s snowing
Holding poles in front of Bony’s
The foes be the bogus police
Finessing these stupid n***as
Doing tricks like hocus pocus
And yo bitch go ‘round and ‘round like loopty loops on roller coasters