[Verse 1: Musolini]
Pharoah don in the cut with a blunt
Plotting on my next move, this chess not checkers
At the drive-thru with your bitch getting food
Said her phone’s dying, don’t be a fool
She suck me off clean before I bring her back to you
No school, but I still got right
Made a little money and I booked a few flights
I don’t care about friends or these new rap trends
N***as wearin' tights and dying they hair
My shooters got sticks, they gon' find you in the woods
Blair Witch, run 'em over in the whip
Don’t trip, I ain’t gotta do shit
But be Mus', ‘cause I paid dues
And my grind be the proof, the truth hurts
Plus I’ma shoot first, double up with the work
‘Fore I write a verse ‘cause the bills come first
Yeah, you pop pills, got you thinking that you’re Pac
Behind you [?] and you n***as rock a purse
I just stay in my lane, I ain’t saying names
Havana Cafe, fresh salmon with my bae

[Verse 2: Flee Lord]
This that boom-bap old-school, new crack for the Pro Tools
Uzi clap vocals, you contract when you roll through
Golden Era shit, frozen selling nicks
Posted by the mailbox, this coca better flip
A one-man team but I run mad fiends
The money leave dirty but it come back clean
You need a quick 30 [?], go ask Green
And I ain’t talking Reeboks, but I pump that thing
[?], yeah, I come from the strip
Damage you like Jeru then I hump on your bitch
Ever try to box me, I’ll leave lumps on your shit
Put my pinky in her stinky then I dump on her tits
Pan-frying fishscale, my grams flyin' [?]
Dope from Albania, my man got it, Ishmael
Dimes on the parkside, 40s in the building
Before we let the sparks fly, we’re talking to the children
Knots in my G-Star, cops in the D cars
They watch but I still get my bag off these retards
[Outro: Flee Lord, 38 Spesh]
Yup, they watch but I still get my bag off these retards
Huh, loyalty and trust, motherfucker
Shout out to my n***a Flee Lord
They watch but I still get my bag off these retards
Musalini, I see you, n***a, 1994, trust