Untitled Song

Give me a 40, ima keep drankin til tha mornin,

got the shotty on my lap, headed to the trap

not feelin sorry for u bitch made niggas,

ima let the burner clap,

sooner or later, run up on you like a damn raid

, better give me that

paper, im not scared to catch a case,

so do yo self a favor, or ill make u my damn maid,

make u bring

me some lemonade. homie aint nobody afraid

, they dont call me

scrappy 4 no reason, ill knock your ass till the next season

, catch me

slippin thats a lie, im trippin? bitch thats alright,

im sippin, while gettin

high. so i be cruisin by, just tryna see wassup wit it,

cuz i know fasho,

yal aint ready to die, so u might wanna shut the hell up

, aint nun but a

mothafuckin scrub, took out my nine and

shot the nigga in the head,

blood

comin out crazy, you should of listen to what i said,

you wouldnt be on the ground dead,

poped a fuckin zany,

cuz i keep having flashbacks, back

when i had the snapback wit a backpack full of drugs,

i was the main plug, throwin up my hood,

just to let em kno, got the thugs wit me,

theyll drug yo ass out,

then take everything you got, nigga its life, around here,