When it's on, I'm poppin' off every chance I get,
Out the window on some uptown anthem shit,
I'm stressin', but ain't no pressure, I been here before,
Fugitive taskforce at my girlfriends' door,
Now they checkin' in her bedroom, I ain't there,
Forty Cals, extended clips, still I ain't scared,
Outlaw, and best believe they won't take me alive,
I'm different and I'mma prove it if it take me to die,
You think God had a plan for me?
But he won't be layin' up in my casket or doin' life in the can for me,
Maybe I'm brazen or paranoid than a bitch,
Me dyin', you think I'd let him see the joy from that shit?
Walking dead, angels spend their last days by me,
New Jersey Giant like Dave Tyree,
Young George or Jonathan Chat,
Your guns clap,
Mine will go 'br-r-r-r-att',
Soldier like Geronimo Pratt,
And come through cockin' tha black pound,
When they put the twin towers up, Pac, I'm knockin' 'em back down,
Poster child,
Air Force Ones, with the checks,
I'm supposed to wild sex,
Money and murder is all I breathe in my life,
It's full of judges and chasin' enemies in the night,
Through the Henny, I see the eyes of the Devil,
He's ridin' with extra boxes of bullets and a nina and a shovel
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