Concentrated lyrics

[Chorus]
Run up on a b*tch, got both my wrists slit
Fall back, reload, got a full clip
In the back seat, lemme' take another hit
While I vanish into black every time I go split
Run up on a b*tch, got both my wrists slit
Fall back, reload, got a full clip
In the back seat, lemme' take another hit
While I vanish into black every time I go split

[Verse 1]
di*kriders out while they jack another style
Motherf*ckers talk bad, I been doing this a while
No it ain't special, no it ain't nothing new
All that sh*t bad, you ain't even in my view
Chink on the come up, I don't hear a f*cking doubt
Got a f*cking problem, I don't see you come around
Making no noise, you ain't even speaking loud
All these people standing still in a small dead crowd
Give a man shade cause' the bars I spit are hot
Never be worth sh*t with all the loot you get or got
Think you on top now you got a big head
Put you back in your place, taking back what you said
Take a little break, step back give it time
But I'll be right here and I'll stay spitting rhymes
Who's set is this? Look around b*tch, it's mine
Don't care much if you go and quit, it's fine
[Chorus]
Run up on a b*tch, got both my wrists slit
Fall back, reload, got a full clip
In the back seat, lemme' take another hit
While I vanish into black every time I go split
Run up on a b*tch, got both my wrists slit
Fall back, reload, got a full clip
In the back seat, lemme' take another hit
While I vanish into black every time I go split

[Verse 2]
Posted with an automatic, try to bring me static
Motherf*cker started bragging that his b*tch was the baddest
But I can make a promise that she really f*cking wasn't
Said he been slinging dope but he really f*cking doesn't
No free pass, b*tch we all got to pay
No I don't make the rules, the f*ck you want me to say?
f*ck a cop snitching, definition of a pig
Yeah we all make a living, it's your own grave ya dig
Pull up to your residence, say "f*ck all who you messin' with"
You're owing people dope, b*tch you gotta settle sh*t
Running out your pockets, where the f*ck did it go?
All that sh*t's gone, blowing on a couple O's
b*tches don't regret long as they can make a profit
They just care about a penny,they can walk and go deposit
Don't give a f*ck, they just want it to themselves
But they're gonna die slow cause' of all the sh*t they sell
[Chorus]
Run up on a b*tch, got both my wrists slit
Fall back, reload, got a full clip
In the back seat, lemme' take another hit
While I vanish into black every time I go split
Run up on a b*tch, got both my wrists slit
Fall back, reload, got a full clip
In the back seat, lemme' take another hit
While I vanish into black every time I go split