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[Verse 1:] Hotboxing the whip with piff from the ziplock Guns come from Big Lots, blunts from the Quick Stop Scheming on a plot trying to rob Mr. Big Shot Strip you for your little chip of the rock Stay equipped with the Glocks, you left for dead sifting through rocks Gave your girlfriend my dick in a box All the dirt I got on my hands I should have rocks in my wristwatch But I pick Glocks over chocolates in the gift box Chase you down the staircase, pop you in the lobby Feed you hot slugs, each shot is a hot tamale Spot where we put the bodies is hot as the Mojave Probably time to find a new hobby Before cops is sending out the bloodhounds, rounding up the posse Reckless niggas with more records than disc jockeys Play their records on CNN and Hard Copy Play the part where they show the heart in the autopsy [Interlude:] Everyone of you is alive, your death has got nothing to do with it. You already survived many deaths, but you don't know anything about it. How much have you learned in this life? How much have you truly learned that makes a difference? [Verse 2:] I'm a motherfucking headhunter, a cold winter to a dead summer Doesn't matter the weather, I'm still a lead-dumper You can find the fucking body in the red dumpster 20+ years, cousin couldn't dead hunger (Still hungry, motherfuckers) SongtexteSee it's the gutter that I rap I nickname gats, they my butterfly effect The boxcutter or the TEC Some of my brothers is on their deen, some of them provide the wet And some of them provide the birdos Jail motherfuckers that'll buck you on their furlough I run through a wall, never heard of hurdles Manos de Piedra, I'm Roberto, you a fucking herb though I've been getting money since my third show My new Kel-Tec is berzerko, only smoke the purple Y'all just fucking stand around in circles Me and Jus Allah controversial Aus Songtexte Mania