[Intro]
Free, free, free, free, free
Hey put the pistol back under the sink man

[Verse 1]
Imma gon’ spit a forty eight
That’s a four, five and a tre
Used to get the tray lunch for the free
Sixth grade
Now the way the boy eat, Imma need ten plates
I don’t need templates for what God mapped out
Yeah the sound surround ‘cause I max out
Excuse the violent language as I map out
All the scenery that’s leaving me when I black out
Okay, ain’t no need for fronting
I keep it one hundred
I don’t stretch the truth but I’ve been working on my lunges
Got a leg up on the competition
Know you see me coming
This is rapping in my genes, keep it square
Like a punnet
Imma spend a whole summer somersaulting to the summit
Aw, sucki sucki now
Seem like he onto something
Man I swear they overlook me
But I never get insulted
Shon like, what the lamp?
I’m Aladdin, where’s the sultan
I’ve been looking for a comer
Graduate above me, I’m from where they pull the gun up
Aggravated in my head, I know I hear my momma
Saying don’t be reckless, you don’t wanna fit your bumper
Waiting for the boys to come check like lumber
While you get your kids kidnapped, no slumber
Riding with the MAC in the back of the Hummer
And they shooting like Jerry Stack with the jumper
Blacks losing numbers

[Verse 2: YourWelcome]
Imma gon’ spit a forty eight
That’s a four, five and a tre
Yeah I been a rapper since Yahweh’s little [?]
What’s up?
Now I’m moving like a puma through my city streets
Hoping ain’t no tune up when the tool up ain’t no fixing leaks
Sooner or later they’ll wet you up
Like a barracoota lee and shirt more room but ain’t no Oklahoma
Soon as everybody’s shooting like it’s heroin
Try to play a hero find a bullet in your heroine
Aw naw, there you go again
Flow something like a sawed-off
Put it to your chin
Yeah right when you get gnawed off
I want you to bite it, homie you recite it
Please tell me how you do a major if you undecided
Say you want that real and I really write it
This has been inspired from my higher place
Heaven got me hosting hell fire
Hell to the sire
I’ve been killing tracks for a minute now
Got a different style for my different styles
Still switch it up, like the tree limbs Grandma use to him me with
I’m spitting tough but let me pick it up
I’m less concerned about keeping the gold
Doing this here for my people so
Peep the flow
But eye the God that gave me the part for seeing the whole
The killers and dealers and billers that live in my city got me wanna lead them all
Not if you feeling the pressure, I swear
Devil got us in the seat, but hold like uh
Imma gon’ spit a forty eight
That’s a forty five and tre
Went the O side for the summer
Still never been to LA, what’s up
What’s up? Hey what’s up?
Hey what’s up?