This is a song about "Hindi"

They never envisioned a rift, but time was flippin' the script on the brothers

Kismet hadn't finished its trip, one relinquished his bridge to the gutters

Trying to be what i'm not not cause they don't see that i'm hot i'm over it and i'm close to split

I was addicted to the shit, working for an extended clip, i wanted to stick to this script.

Convertible coupe, bitches scream when they tops split

I'm blatantly sick soon as i'm making a script;

So i blew a bible script 'n' went pyscho and shot other rhino's with my rifle clipped

I'm givin' a whippin' to chickens who dissin' and flippin' my lip 'til i'm diggin' your crypt

Im ad lib bin while the sticking to script like magnets

Alias, mussolinimentally unstable, "g" status

The look of no hope on my niggas' faces

Stickin' to the script, no double take's,.

And when i start to rise

Still living the thug life

I used to have a nine to five

My balls die for the thug life