Cursive Copybooks lyrics

Black king, y’all ain’t f*cking with me
Got it for the low, hundred fifty
Seen death, I ain’t even blink
Grinding, I been goin’ hard in the paint
Can’t trust no white saints
We debating but I’m smoking a dank
You could walk off that plank
Gettin’ to it, what the f*ck do you think
n*gga had to find that purpose
Saw her body, got nervous
All verses, black cursive
At the end, that stack worthless, n*gga
At the end, that stack worthless
Black cursive
That stack worthless
Treat money or flip shrooms
G spliffs in big rooms
When I come through, she swoon
Live it up ‘til I meet doom
Big blunts in the Poconos
Break ceilings, open doors
Break bread with the red zebras
Y’all lame n*ggas can’t see us
I’m baked with a fake Visa
Dumb jakes need to take leisure
What
Dumb jakes need to take leisure
I’m baked with a fake Visa
Y’all lame n*ggas can’t see us
Ha-ha
f*ck these n*ggas