100 Bars & Gunnin

(アルバム： Son Of Serpentine - 2019)

Yeah, Savage Thug Music
[?] strap that nigga [?]
From the M.O.B., run this shit down like [?]
From the M.O.B., run this shit down like [?]

Bitch, I'm on a mission, my destination the grave
Aim my chopper to yo' head then I take off your toupée
Mobbing four deep inside of a bucket, the transmission slipping
Had a conversation with the devil, told me get to ripping
It's the Grey*59, throw your six up in the air
Darkness falling from above, step across and bitch beware
I'd rather die from my feet than to live up on my knees
True soldier from the trenches, jumping out the seven seas
Fuck with me, get your wig pulled back
Steady swerving off a Xanax that I put inside the shack
This shit is kicking in and I just don't know how to act
My remembrance is enough, 'bout to pull a hijack
Crash a plane inside of a building, now watch the bodies burn
As the world turns, police sirens coming but I'm not concerned
Suicidal, lay my ashes inside of a gold urn
Shooting at these busters so you know murder is what I yearn
Get a call it from my uncle, tells me, "Nephew, what you doin'?
Come to M-town, we can get some money and pick up the chewin'"
Ball 'til the day I fall, hundred gold spokes when I crawl
Keep my back along the wall, watch another pussy fall
Mind fucked up, keep the toolie like I'm Bobby, mane
In the kitchen whipping up a storm and standing in the rain
*59 thug 'til my body turns Grey
'Til you put me in the dirt and leave my body to decay
Run up, bitch you don't wanna
I keep my gun up 'til the sun up, creep on the come up
I push this gat into yo' stomach, bitch, I'm the gunner
You think you balling, you no stunna 'cause I'm a hunter
This is a stick-up, lay it down when I come around a mask over my face
Bucking at the window, drive-by, bitches give me space
I don't need to talk to nobody 'cus all you suckas fake
Bitch, you mad about the fact, that your music don't make plays
Selling reposts, you's a ho, I need ten to spit a flow
Twenty bands up at your show, gorilla coming out the sko
Brown paper bagged up St. Ides sippin
Like I said, in the beginning, I'm a killa on a mission
Better back the fuck up 'cus shits about to get real
Call upon the fucking devil so him and I cut a deal
Searchin for another meal, could give a fuck how you feel
Bitch, you fucking with the wrong one, I'm 'bout to make you squeal