big boss sippin i aint trippin if he gotta die pour another 8th smokin gas i be with the clouds lime after line on the syrup i be slowed down cant trust noone whose ya homie we aint friends now im juat livin life like i know i should she gone grip the wood im misunderstood from the hood up to no good smoke him like a wood couldve been yo homie how he dogged my dude amd they say im rude she say the pussy good i might hit you wit the strap depresseion i think shit in seconds suicide is a mission unsuccessive i feel extensive reaching out for people i feel helpless all the pain ive delt this all the hurtnive felt it i feel like my brain is melting dog ass dude with a fly ass chain i might go and take yo bitch but them hoes jus lame id rather take yo money poat up on the block with the gang gucci belt on but my pants still hang off my ass on my last im smokin that grass put him in the past he was last should've worn a mask nroad daylight when i crashed but i did the dash shouldve hit the gas i was on my ass police did the math