Heartless (part 2)
• Written by ybn_eli
Cause my boys pack automatic's
Learning to communicate, through mathematics
Murder capital, just a couple years back
And black folks selling the black
Pretend you're a customer, grab yourself a map
is that ya really ya style of rap
In a hospital bed, dead finna meet the reaper
You're my Shining Star, no matter who you are
The boxes, with the bows, sittin under that tree
Believe that my rhyme is spoken like it has to be
So I could look prep and pull Kate Moss bitches
Use glocks, to unscrew tops, son, them snitches
More out of control and psycho
you really never know now, here we go
Pops still cursin I can still smell trees
we want that scrilla, scratch, cheddar, cheese
Cause these fake fake records just keep on playin
Always carryin' a mack 10 know what I'm sayin'?
Man the freaks, man man man the freaks ain't freaky
I'm feelin' shitty, nitty witty got me greedy
Just a pen that does tricks like a magic wand
my life is hunted, I'm confused and fond
All the lessons to a young teen baby was cold
Stone cold, I got the itchy trigger to choke hold
Stand and clock, while I supply planted rock
Biters jock, I stifle heads just like I'm writer's block
We ain't posting trying to trap fam, we rep God
Two jobs work hard you a bad broad
I never thought there would come the day
And I can't believe, my best friend's gay
Who that wanna fuck with me, Lil' Free
Fiending for direction so my movie can be
We ain't equal, it's for my people
Music for chicks who like it simple
You chose to be hater
Warrior, rebel, trained assassinator
Porno with six stars
Man cause I was
Lets go get 'em
I'm from them
Some could give a shit
Just pause that thought for a bit
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Scopin every skin without a bra
I skeet best on a one-night stand
Each one of them tryin to grab my hand
Move-Move if you wanna move-move if you wanna move
But I can't get enough of your love
But Paul Wall and Freeway'll make 'em sang
So load 'em up, load 'em up, click bang
Motorcycle wit' it, wit' it, motorcycle wit' it, wit' it
Not knowing that's what I had for that ass and get
Slept in the dungeon the trainin be the same
the exclamating murder rate, and the clime to fame
A toast to the Red Zone, raise 'em now
Should I quit smokin weed? I don't know
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About the Artist
ybn_eli
Member since September 2 2020