verse one
well-seasoned recipe es coldest with this ten degree tendency
Spit on commanders til' they evaporate into air vapors
Rolling armies for the papers a taker of lives
Useful purpose for guns, and knives
i live my life worry free while past friends are left behind
The finish line cause they took years to finish lines
I'llshoot you pigs then feed your seeds the swine
you getting raped soon as you sign that dotted line
Hard to find cause your harbored with homo's
selling bunk and you wonder why your money's slow
Coming to your crib pockets low feeling suicidal
Ready to blast the nine and damage organs that are vital
Trying to claim a title niggas died for to keep
your not a martyr you were a rat that died in these poisonous streets
Mad at me cause i refused to pay that ridiculous fee for those garbage beats
sent your boys at me with amateur bars
those fools never caught a misdemeanor so they have demeanor's of frauds
Soon to be done like dissected frogs
Spit on command a visible threat like the president of Iran
Conquering armies and empires burying enemies under sand
Me and my clan rolling like the Taliban in Pakistan
so if your not fam you'll never understand the master plan
verse two
everybody claims to have beef but have to pack guns
i was raised fatherless so i have no problem smacking sons
Stacking ones writing rhymes by the tons
Banking my money overseas in case the i.r.s. comes
I'm mysterious like love still pierce your mug like a diamond stud
waterproof see I'll survive a Katrina flood
Shit is bugged see these little ones claiming crip and blood
to soft for prison so they catch anus incision
Life is hard on the block where cops plant rocks in your socks
Violence is part of life so i keep the glock cocked
Being watched by the beast from work to the spots
where the weed is copped niggas pay off crooked cops
dealer knocked snitches cases dropped then wigs get popped
It's a daily event life's evicted like non paying tenants
Knowledge of self centered true and living styles invented
last verse
troubled when i rest my head a pillow filled with lead
Fools shooting each other for some street cred
Then they want to place the blame on something young buck said
It's hypocritical to make excuses for a capable individual
eyes blinded by the light no visual
thinking it's smooth portraying a criminal
until the guns fired I'd rather be a living thug retired
Than a murdered liar cats always fall victim to desire
every lines about banging bitches, hitting switches, or their attire
Gimmicks tired cemetery bound with those shallow flows
Thinking a condom will keep you safe from those diseased hoes?
Call a real thug out and they're there with gats crashing your studio
While real emcee's get fucked for not crafting the booty flow
So I'm screaming fuck the radio cause nothing they're playing is original
Bookmarks