Ayo, son of Malcolm, and mind of Martin
A heart of Huey P
Shoot up a cracker eulogy, gun powder on my Louis V
Got questions with no answers like, “Is life just a lucid dream?”
It’s harder to do right beside this rappin’, I’ma tool with schemes
My dope on the spoon, the stamp on the package was new regime
Put it in the wax paper, wrap it, and its straight to the fiends
Tarot read, you grew the death into magician after this
And different chapter, I draw gun as big as to clap yourself
Lord and master, don’t adore the Lord
Free all the trappers
Got caught with the raw in the door of the Lac truck
Never had much before, my only thoughts was stack up
You either be the one making the punch or shootin’ smack up
Can’t rely on n#gg#s, done keep your gun for back up
Squeeze the trigger ’til your finger numb then don’t get clapped up
Vital survival sh#t, feel the high when my rival hit
Look the judge in the eye and lie, my hand on the bible sh#t
Ayo, Dip got killed, Munch got killed
Pete got killed, Casablanca silk
We ain’t even hilt before some more blood spilt
Moms lost two sons in a year
I don’t even wanna know how that sh#t feel
Eastside sh#t real
Knowledge from dope past, clutching my blic still
I’m godly (I’m godly, I’m godly, godly)
It was either me or him Allah, I’m sorry (Allah, I’m sorry, Allah, I’m sorry)
What the f#ck would you do?
Crossover, two different pots, Skip 2 My Lou
Hitler Wears Hermes, hangin’ at the Louvre
In the bag, racing Rari’s with Larry June
Look at the V’s in the WESTSIDEDOOM
Rest in peace, DOOM
All f#ckin’ caps
Rest in peace to my OG
I lost that n#gg# few months ago
That was my n#gg#
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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