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 b*tch sh*t, takin losses
Hittin licks I do this often
b*tch lick my di*k til it soften
Ballin til the reaper callin, all in
Rest in peace to the fallen
n*ggas talkin like they on sh*t
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 muhf*ckin 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*ggas
Doing tricks like hocus pocus
And yo b*tch go ‘round and ‘round like loopty loops on roller coasters