my life is played out like a jheri curl, i’m ready to die

when i was young me and my mama had beef - seventeen years old kicked out on the streets

because it is, survival of the fittest - when the shit hits the fan i got my shank in my hand

cause brothas that i know be actin shifty - let me be me - and i’ll let you be you - but why talk about me if its not me that you’re talkin’ to

i got techniques drippin out my buttcheeks - sleep on my stomach so i don’t fuck up my sheets, huh

gotcha, open off the words i say because “this type of shit it happens everyday”

they say i’m so low key, i’m socially awkward - only niggas who really know me who i talk with

i heard your album and i don’t believe a word of it - i think you’re soft like that trick, mother hubbard

riding through the hood got me gripping the grain - and i’m sipping the same while i’m changing the lanes - eyes real tight cause i’m choking the creep - vision messed up cause i’m drinking the lean

depending on how i feel i might go on a heist so at my wedding i can throw ice instead of throwing rice

the buda got my brain seein my own my blood stains

i don’t wanna get rich, leave you in the hood

flossin rocks the size of ice cubes