B*t*h I’m ridin’ with the mothaf**kin bowie in the glovebox
Hittem where it hurts snatch your soul & watch the blood drop
Eyes red, face blank, faded in my mugshot
Whippin’ while I’m smokin’ while you posted at the bus stop
F**k Cops
HHM b*t*h we a mothaf**kin must watch
As a youngin kept a quarter in my lunchbox
Only runnin’ from the sound of pigs & gunshots
B*t*h f**k off
I don’t wanna have to listen to these bitin’ b*t*hes
Everybody studying us tellem mind they business
Mothaf**kas corny with this sh*t and ion get it
Every lil f**kin thing they doin I done did it
Like a minute ago
Better get ur hoe before she hop up in the backseat
I never murdered but you shouldn’t put it past me
Better get that dough and hand it over need it last week
Heard they talkin’ but they never wanna @ me
Yung sxmpra never settle
When I get up on the mic it’s on
When a pu**y mothaf**ka barkin never bitin they gone
When I creep up out the catacombs you know I’m comin back strong
Wanna beat the beast but I keep the peace until I keep it too long
Yuh
Murder on da beat
I don’t really wanna be seen
But I gotta be me
All black Beanie
With da jeans
Imma scheme
On a team
Better know what I mean like
It’s Schema da posse
With the hell hound militia
We keep it killa
You feel it
And all these f**kas vanilla
All these little rappers get up in they f**kin feelings tell em get up out my face if this is you that I’m hearing I’m tryna
Move on up
I wanna sit at the top
And I got no time for mothaf**kas that be talkin a lot
What
Imma keep on spittin till I get my f**kin pesos
Lay low
Schemin like a demon to the grave hoe
Pu**y mothaf**kas gonna wanna see me fail but I keep on f**kin killin it till I’m old and f**kin frail
Motha f**kas hate me cuz their girlfriends wanna f**k me
Heart filled up with poison Lead is pumpin through my bloodstream
Talk that sh*t behind a desktop that sh*t doesn’t bug me
Keep that energy in person cuz I’ll make a pu**y bleed
Knife didn’t work you gon need a gun to quiet me
Creepin in the bushes round your house I do it silently
Never trust a soul or a hoe cuz they trifling
Mad because you ain’t me and im everything you try to be
Blunt lit, wrist slit, flat tires on the Chevy while I’m rollin with a thick b*t*h
10 sticks and drums clips, if i pull up on your block you better f**kin run b*t*h
Keep running your mouth ill be tearing out your tongue b*t*h
You ain’t bout sh*t so I’ll call you Eric King
Talk tough and I’ll pull up and put a hatchet in your knees
Pull the burner from my waste band and send a bullet through your teeth
Send your #ss to hell I promise no one gonna grieve
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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