BRE PRIORA

A pistol and a scale. Some boy with some bands. A pistol and scale. Last count a on A pistol scale. Houses up the scale. A pistol and a scale. These niggas tried me on it. A pistol and a scale. A pistol and a scale. A pistol and a scale. Last count a song on it. A pistol and a scale. A pistol and a scale. A pistol and a scale. Last count a song on it. I knew this cat told the business to my Dog's sister. He drive a Benz truck, Chrome rims with the woofers. Had a house on the south side, lack haters. Pulling bricks of heroin, he got my dogs banking. I told them get the information, find out where He quaint. At one of them tail sucking vegans, Find out where he stay. I got the information then we put the plot In motion. Money and plug gone, bitches hit the Business open. We stood his house a couple days, Pulled up with the dry ice. Going to blow behind his head with the pump AKs. Once the blender open, driver said, "Smash the mouth." They shut it down, fifty-seven hollow in his mouth. Now quiet, money take us to the safe house Or bitch, swear to God I'm gonna blow your Brains out. Home tied him up, this shit getting Drastic. My nigga threw him in the trunk with A bag of plastic. Took the plug spot that we knew about, Two niggas came out. Almost over the nine, my nigga shot it, took Him out. Nigga started screaming out, "Please don't kill me, man." Slap him with that pistol across his head till We seen brains. Boozed and left the scene, Twenty-eight pounds of good. Seven bricks of that boy, it was all good. Then we took the shit right back to the Hood. Broke that shit down, shared it loose.