LOST SOULS

Smoking on some sticky wax. Double blade, this be business, clinking, Banging, crazy thangs. I'm the man, my out this bag. Boy, y'all shouldn't tough us. Make rain, give me tape, give tape full of Hate. Bitches like, "Pop, now I got to crush You." Stitches look like riches on my quarter slab. You don't know me, boy, don't quote me. Now we breaking bad. On The go, for my fucking choppa. Call the cops 'cause you know a gang making Bucks. Drunk weave. Straight the sub for some love, Running big green. I'm from the South, swinging south like the king Of ducks. Get fucked in the love, Fucked up. Sticky be business, clinking, banging, crazy thangs. I'm the man, my band out this Boy, Y'all shouldn't tough Make it me tape, Give me tape full of hate. Bitches like, "Pop, I got to crush you." Stitches like riches on My quarter slab. You don't know me, boy, don't me. Now we breaking bad. On the go, yellow flow for my fucking choppa. Call the cops 'cause you know gang of us Making bucks. Drunk in water, been to Florida in That inner Weave. Straight to sub for some love, Running big green. I'm from the South, swinging south like the king Of ducks. Get fucked in the love, Get fucked up. We Right here pulling trees as we count pays. Smoking tang with them killers from the South to Southeast. Crazy thangs