Untitled Song

Yo its me again,

The kid whos got you seeing ten completed men,

With clips straps, and bullets to bleed him in,

And if the reason hits, ill check the box and leave em in

To let the demons sin, no fucks given for grievances

Im general grevious, do no dirty work too tedious

The thirty first hits, my inner lurking wolf is needy it's

Close to dinner time, sin or not you need to feed the kid,

A couple reps up on the menu targets looking meaty and

The median for beat actors is looking harsh,

Tearing up the company like shots outside the porch,

Bullets close by, you can count on that like its some post time,

Most times out of ten a faker won't slide,

Won't rep, won't die for my family,

10 times my two hitters are taking twenty shots

Medusa and calypso that's the names up on my glocks,

One will turn you stone, the other have you lost,

Man You wanna try my flow because it isn't what you thought,

It isn't what you need man, it isn't what you sought,

I suggest you take the beating with a serving of some salt