Talk on me, you’re a deadman walking
He a b#tch, put his name on a coffin
.223’s going straight through his noggin
Headshot, you must think that I lost it
I could cash out, I don’t care what the cost is
Bloodshot red, watch it drip like a faucet
They be talking, they got nothing in their pockets
You a nuisance, you a f#cking target for me
Take you for a round trip, you gon’ see what I see
Put you in a f#cking hearse, I don’t wanna see you breathe
‘Round here we don’t play, you get smoked like a meat
We gon’ pull up, put you in the ground
You talk a whole lot, we don’t hear a sound
We gon’ put you down, we be smoking pounds
No, we not underground, yeah, you know wе in the clouds
Out of pocket, b#tch, you need to stop it
I don’t know, why am I so f#cking toxic?
That’s a lot of blood, p#ss#, why you getting nausеous?
Pull up in the Coupe and you know you’re out of options
You’re all out of options, best proceed with caution
Posted up with Seph, b#tch, you know we’re never stopping
You know that I’m hungry for it, you know that I want it
Seph gon’ make a call out and you know I’m f#cking on it
At the top, it’s my pocket they watching
Feel like Fetty, switched from Trueys to some Robins
Tried to rob it
’Cause it’s flawless
5.7 up to his dome and double profits
34, fast, think I’m bout to break the dash
Never worried ’bout sh#t, been the greatest in the class
Talk tough, you trash, they ain’t f#cking with your tracks
Got straps, door dash
Fire 8 shots fast
Double headshot, we ain’t aiming for your chest
Killing spree, 2 Macs and a Tec
Bad b#tch, but I only want the neck
Get to shooting sh#t, I’m posted up with Seph now
Put his body in the ground, we don’t mess around
I’m not f#cking with nobody ’cause they’re Feds now
When we shooting, we ain’t aiming for the legs now
You a lil’ dog, I’m a hellhound
{Verse 5: Goony
I can’t trust her, she be f#cking with my opps
I don’t love her, leave her in the f#cking dust
Gas on me, roll it up
I do not give a f#ck
I get right to the bucks
We gon’ f#cking run it up
And we f#cking on his b#tch
And the money coming quick
Yeah, we ’bout to hit a lick
Why your music sound like shit?
I’m with Seph and we getting to the guap
I just want the racks, I can’t worry bout a thot
Talk on me, you’re a deadman walking
He a b#tch, put his name on a coffin
.223’s going straight through his noggin
Headshot, you must think that I lost it
I could cash out, I don’t care what the cost is
Bloodshot red, watch it drip like a faucet
They be talking, they got nothing in their pockets
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