Sick of all this Fake shit, Pussy shit, hoe shit, and dry shit. I’m outta breath for it. Nigga you’s a Bitch sshould’ve smacked you with a stick. Knowing damn well you could never step to this shit. Pussy lame niggas always chasing clout of my dick. Save it Fa bitch, know she like sucking on my shit. What the fuck they talking bout? Like I ain’t built Fa this shit. Like I won’t drill Fa this shit. Like I won’t kill Fa this shit. Catch me checking of my list. Catch me reeling in a fish. Catch me running up a bag. Catch me still with the shits. Like C Murder out again?! Man dat boy really him. Yeah dat boy did him in. Ain’t got time for a Friend. Cause I can barely trust my kin. Hope you let that sink in. Hope you let that sink in. Uh oh! There he go again Mr. Don’t play with him Mr. 2 to your brim. Mr. alley hoop yo friend. Still don’t give no fucks, Do whatever it takes to win. Diving head first up in that water. Knowing sharks in that bitch. Now what that tell you bout him? He knowing the consequence. He not showing no fear. He ready for blood to spill. Pussy nigga get killed. Fa playing up in the field. Sometimes I really wonder my nigha is this shit real? Trappers trapped in the trap. Shooters trapped with the strap. Hoes stuck chasing sacks. And the clappers making it clap. Haters keep on hating cause y’all got time for that. Lame nigga be warned I’m going straight to the max. Like Kane asked for the strap. I’m knocking yo shit back. Can’t wait to get into that.