Ima take the ‘win/wind’ kinda like ‘Katrina’ would
With a ‘sweater on backwards’ only time he ‘seen a hood’
I’m beatin him good, when I pull the hit and shoot
Cuz Paper Boi’s crowd don’t even give him a ‘root/route’!
Stuffin the loot to give me time to kick back
Cuz with ‘theme parks’ the only time he’s ‘draggin Six Flags’ (claims he's a crip)
Bagged and kidknapped, put the wool on his eyes
Wrap a noose around his neck like I’m pullin a tie
Sullen to die - scared of my practice
Cuz my ‘tracks’ stay sicker than ‘heroin addicts’
I’ll bury his casket – not a be a thug on a bet
Like a ‘basketball swish’ – he’s ‘nothing but net’!
I’ll crumple his set with my lines that are huntin
When you ‘face Back-Words’ – only time you aint ‘frontin’
Pull a crime when you runnin, your raps are beatin me? Please...
Cuz I stay spittin heat like acid reflux disease
Its treason to speak, heat seek with the rifle
It’s like ‘unimportant clips’ cuz I leave a ‘Tri-Full/trifle’
You see the knife pull? You see me slice through?
You see ride by when I end ya life too?
My pen will strike you – violently spill you
Im a ‘murderous font’ – the strait ‘TYPE’ to kill you
Or I might just drill you like construction workers
And his beef stays small like a munchkin burger
I punch and hurt ya while you eat my lines up
Call this Custard’s last stand – there’ll be no Triumph!
