[ Featuring Fat Nick ]
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Pull up to your mammy house
I put yo' family straight to sleep
Ridin' with the duster by my side
I'm 'bout to sweep the streets
Tell them hoes the score was murder
When I hit their f*ckin' town
'Tato tip all on that bitch so
That they don't make no sound
It's the Grey59, step inside the Columbine
Where you witness your demise and this
Throne will still be mine
Grey Gorilla, MAC-9, make your heart flatline
Speaking 'bout my f*ckin' clique
Buckle up and throw down
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Oh shit, here we go, these Percs and Xans
I'm feelin' low
We skrrt the Porsche, the engine
Blow, I been too rich, now watch me glow
Draco twitch, now watch me empty out a clip
Shoot, shoot, shoot
Bet your luck I'll hit your shit
VVS my neck, dripped out to my wrist
Where the hunnid, hunnid, hunnid
Smoke is in a brick
I got too much on me, that's why your bitch
She want me
Iced out, all gold, hear the boy froze
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Watchin' for the police 'cause they
Always tryna catch me, mane
A 2-11 in progress
I'm 'bout to rob this sucka out his shit
Tie him up and tape his
Mouth, told this bitch
"Don't make no sound"
Throw that busta in the trunk
'bout to take him hellbound
Out the grave, you can't kill what's dead
I like my rum bloody red
My souvenir this sucka head
And in the water's where he dread
Servin' up that hot lead
I like the shotty 'cause it spread
F*ckin' with the Killa, promise by the end
You'll be dead
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
