[Verse 1]   Uh uh, Uh, Uh   Ayo, mac 10s and fake friends   Lawyers little game homicide 25 with the fucking nigga facin   But I'm still trill, still holdin   Rollin gully until I'm frozin, closed in a box with embalming fluid   Veins pumpin ice   First and 15th keep that cane pumping right   Hard white, cold cash   Hold fast, fold fast, through the city so gas   No ass   Straight head bitch, I'm running from the feds   Fuck comma raps, Sam Giancana   All I got in this world is my fifth dick and nana   Gangsta mannerism lyrical vandalism   Niggaz be burnin up their guns until the fucking hammers hit 'em   Who need help?   Well until then I'ma take that mac off the shelf   and hold thes fucking streets hostage   Blowing smoke out my nostrils   Every breath is a step to a untimely death      [Hook 2X]   I wanna know where to go   Need a place in my mind I can rest   Cause this time is running out for my flesh   Dried up, sittin' in a chair fried up      [Verse 2]   You know me; I don't need no introduction in this   Big gun, big dick, half of a mill on the wrist   Sittin in my continental thinkin' about potential connects   I live in all, just pencil the best   Parts of the live of a quintessential hustler   When I pull a slide back   Motherfuckers be hoping they faces don't get left open   You understand?   Shirt soaking, brain smoking left in the ocean floatin'   Shyne Po, dough, stack, y'all Rap niggaz is trash   I don't give a fuck how much records you sold   Tryin' to be me   Keep it real dog, you dyin to be me   You wanna know how it feel, don't you?   To have a murder charge, tote guns at American Music Awards   And live life against stars   Doing 170 screaming "FUCK THE WORLD" (gangsta get outta the car)      [Hook 2X]      [Verse 3]   Where the fuck them niggaz at? We gonna handle this beef   Turn your mic off bitch; see me in the street   Fuck peace 'til I'm restin in the [dried up flesh is finish]?   I don't know how to chill til I'm in the morgue   Dysfunctional, highly uncomfortable paranoid   Without the extra clip (bitch), try me I'll puncture you   Had niggaz waking up with wings in their backs, halos in their head like   "Ayo I'm dead"   Can a knight fucking princess Diana type   Vana White, vane light, pen I write cold, hand of ice   They said too much for the motor mind to comprehend   Walk wit me, pause take a breath (lets go)   Things ain't just the same for gangstas   Secret indictments fucking up the game for gangstas   [?] charges tryin to arraign a gangsta   Through it all I maintain my gangsta      [Hook until fade]