I want his house burnt to the ground
I wanna go there in the middle of the night
I wanna piss on his ashes
Well-spoken on some niggas that been jailbroken
Heard he told on his plug, CO left his cell open
Might go out in a blaze of glory, still in Hell totin'
Dumpin' at Lucifer, Sig Sauer with the barrel smokin'
That's how we know the drank hit when ain't no seal on it
Brodie still'll make a fake brick and put the smell on it
Traffickin' the bag, ain't got no paper trail on it
A million dollars in cash, would you kill for it?
No punchlines, no cute shit
'Cause if I press play my niggas really mute shit
Had dawg bleedin' from the mouth, thick as mucus
Niggas boosting on the murkings: We just heard a bunch of shootin'
Real underground kings, we come from the sewage
Don't let me do it to you, dunny, 'cause I overdo it
This murder music with Ali, he co-wrote and produced it
Coke in the microwave, I showboat when I nuke it
Snakes on the collar of my shirt, this polo so exclusive
Out in Vegas at The Mirage, shit ain't no illusion
You know who winnin' but of course we all know who losin'
Jump with them killers off the porch, we all know who rootin'
For the bad guy in the movie smokin' on a Cuban
Dope sweet as a Suzy Q, I got the smokers poofin'
No excuses for my behavior, was broke and stupid
Contributin', doin' the devil's work on my Joyner Lucas
(See it in your face, I got the good stuff)
Loafin' in the spot with M-box making pill flips
Spill trips, touched a couple hundred, need a meal ticket
Ghetto nigga puttin' up numbers like I'm Will Smith
Real shit, pack a little darker but it's still piff
Scratch and sniff, scent a magic marker way this blill hit
Still with the shits, up the stick and hit the kill switch
Crumbled-up packs come assorted like some trail mix
Shellfish, bos by the ton like a Celtic
Selfish with this loaded gun, I get you melted
Attorney left my co-D mane feeling helpless
Lost bro to murder one, all the pain, I done felt it
H, I done scaled it, the 'caine, I done dealt it
Get popped with a brick out of state and catch a Elvis
Eldritch, how long we been taking federal jail risks
Now every time the mail run, that's a twelve-strip
What is this velvet? Bust at your helmet
RIP you and your OG, fuck a spellcheck
DA tried to snatch my bond back, but my bail set
Kel-Tec clip a buck fifty, put you on bed rest
Held bag, dropped out twice, never been held back
It ain't really too much shit in life a nigga failed at
Been to Hell and back, came home nineteen with jail tats
Now we leaving niggas at the light in them Hellcats
