In the club moving the packy drinking til bitty she sloppy throwing the king the key now she giving me toppy only for me she do it so sloppily the money the product the life live living it lavishly amazing astoundingly remaining blessed keep the haters staring obnoxiously wishing and wondering what’d it’d be if the king he never found a key and set hisself free from the lame mediocrity the normalcy the everyday hustle the grind and the punch the clock till suicide consume ya mentality pen so ridiculous wicked and dumb dumb so dumb dumb that the glum scum picking up drum drums of a hunned soul chasers reaching the souls of line steppers And doubters testing mind body n soul of a real don never knowing the heart numb I give the word n my dogs they go gun gun what u think like I was invented to sell records boy u must be dumb dumb see I’m the trenches invention invented by true thugs to slang drugs tote guns move immaculate stacks of the cold bucks in duffels in big trucks fuck u gon do I’m the plugs plug made all this noise and now the world going deaf dumb ridding the sun and the moon of the rat rats n rodents selling out for a day in the dam sun not this cuzz I’m the one cuzz two three of the top guns if I drop u best believe it’s a wrap son!!!