Uh, got a blunt, pop a trunk
Bitch-boy spillin' his guts
Stomach acid mixed with blood
Staining my all-white white laced SB Dunks
Cop a couple bucks out his back pocket
Wallet got to have something
Otherwise, I gotta snatch something
So I pulled out his heart from his chest
Left the rest for his bitch
I ditched for the seventh
Fuck a motherfucker duckin'
I got a bone to pick with
Motherfuckers tryna see me fail
Creepin' like a vulture, bitch
Picking on his bones for the flesh
Leave the flies with the rest
Leave his body growing pale
Close his mouth with nails
Yung Jack Torrance with some
Lil' broke motherfucker wit' enough
Got that torture in my barrel
Them ghosts inhibit my mind
It's that suicidal junkie
I'm creepin' with 59 in the Overlook Hotel
You can tell we come from hell
I'm smokin' and chantin' spells
Poppin' waves back to back
I'm always riding the swell
With all these drugs in my system
Be hard to keep my attention
The narrow run full of tempt to
I see no one but these figures
The risk of losing existence
The only reason I’m itching
Itching to change up my present
Without me switching the mission
Intention to get it quickly and strictly
‘bout getting money not flexin'
Then get some bitches start flexin'
And snatch a ring just for fun
'til I strike them digit's and add it to ya
You’d be wishing that you
Would’ve fucking listened