Lil b#tch, lil b#tch, let me analyze
You m#th*rf#ck*rs rapping like you’ve gotten paralyzed
Cruel summer, I be speaking in a new tone
Get the f#ck out my way, this my paradise
So strange they keep ignoring what I say
Laughing to the graveyard, going to buy you a place
Who else wanna f#cking die? Yeah we spray spray
Black stripe on a f#cking pic, then we get it framed
If I say it then I mean it, b#tch I don’t joke
I be smoking on my ops, but I don’t smoke
Don’t you wait for me to fall, I ain’t going broke
Turn on friendly fire b#tch, Gabriel Rorke
Y’all hoes never see me, John Cena
Blood on your shirt and in my eyes, GodZilla
They gotta be happy for their life, God’s with them
They call me the grim reaper hoe, mob killa
Wah gwaan, wah gwaan, wah gwaan? Since we took to another level hoes be sending shots
But we taking shots and you might catch me dancing in a club
Or dancing in a party, since you shadowing the mob, WAH GWAAN?!
Playing with the rookies ain’t no fun
Who let these b#tches in? They see the show And get stunned
Nosey dummies in this sh#t, stevie’s better get some Job
Better not be in my scope, cause the hitman’s missing none, BOMBOCLAAT!!
Sopranos, we been getting f#cked up, what’s up?
Pistol whip your hoe and all your homies, getting crushed up
More Money more power more eyez on us
Three freak hoes in the backseat gone nuts
Y’all hoes never see me, John Cena
Blood on your shirt and in my eyes, GodZilla
They gotta be happy for their life, God’s with them
They call me the grim reaper hoe, mob killa
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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