R.I.P. Everybody

(album: ghost gun Red Menace - 2021)

And you my dawgs on the twenty-three one-four body
I put money on his books, so my dawg know I got him
Cuz he held me down, similar when I had caught a robbery
I don't give a fuck if he did that shit honestly

Break a fall, all I took is money out your wallet, so be grateful
Somebody coulda murdered you about it, split your grapefruit
Fucking Blue Lives Matter, police so I hate group
Hit you with that side-saddle, caught up in that dayloop
When all that brick'n'mortar shit get brought up in the dateroom
Boot-licking pussy, you get slaughtered up with all that shit
You're not to be trusted, I'm disgusted at the thought of it
I survive so much here that you never wanna get caught up in it

It was me that passed the phone to wifey that night that you called the grip
Breathing heavy, she lied and said she was on the naughty list
I'm on the naughty list
But you ain't just dealing with me, you're dealing with all of us

You toughen up everytime the camera's on
Not me, they're requirements
Catch me on my Amazon, Prime I had the Firestick
Stick it up in my early days, like no one was hiring
Don't make me bring this fucking blick outta retirement

They're like, "Damn, communists, why you acting like this?"
I'll kiss a capitalist with the back of my fist
R.I.P. 'Fredo, R.I.P. Fred
R.I.P. everybody, everybody's dead

He went thataway! Pussy, he went thataway!
You'll be begging for Jesus, Mary, and the Saints of Latter Day
Rainy day funeral on a Saturday
Hitting you with the scattershot
Boom, now you're scatterbrained
I sit in this inner dell [?], meeting a buncha my infidels
Honestly, I don't trust you if you never fucking been to jail
Not my first rodeo, fuck your dog and bone for show [?]
All of my friends are dead but I still got a couple homies though

Romeo almost die if he trying to scoop the Juliet
Bitches getting cut up like you're yelling it on a movie set
Skeet-diggin-in-my, all the left-wingers are mine
Hitting them with the thingamabob
That's the way to bring 'em to God

Spitting a thousand rhymes, just to get my reps in
Kicking your head a thousand times, gotta get my steps in
Stepping the beat, don't bother
I'm your father, you're my step-son
Whatever fucking level that you're that you're on, I'm the next one

My blade tasted blood when the rain came that gave way to floods
They always want you to play games they made up
Trick or treat, I'm at your door with the heat
I'll have you like a ghost on the floor with a sheet
Watch while they encroach more and more, it's a siege
Walk into the jail like I'm on tour in Belize
Boot-licking rappers getting sore in the knees
More armed robberies, more peonies [?]
Stopped you at the door, do your chores before you leave
You're skydiving and forgot to pull the cord before the street
Resist imperialism like the poor Vietnamese
C'mon, man