| Kickin it wit my homie scoob it’s half past 4 |
| He Rollin a blunt and I’m sittin there thinkin about how life gets old |
| Sometimes all I really wanna do is dissappear in a cloud of black smoke |
| And then reappear like houdini |
| With no feelins no feelins to show |
| And I got these chains |
| Got these rusty chains around my ankles |
| And on the other end I see Satan pullin me as I dangle |
| Down down |
| Into the unknown abyss |
| And I’m wishin I could just come back one more time so I could settle shit |
| But I can’t |
| So jump on in the fire is great |
| So many Mothafuckas told me I would end up in this lake |
| For loading a 9 millimeter into my Glock and then to my brain |
| But shouts out to Alex Crowley yo writing is keepin me sane |
| Now take caution cause im killin bustas |
| With a Glock 45 |
| Ramirez in the cut go run and hide |
| Fuckin wit me and it be yo demise |
| Triple six is was im reppin |
| Creepin out that fuckin dungeon |
| Schema Posse G*59 |
| You better start to count yo blessins |
| As i kills you when i pulls up inside of my chevy thang |
| Smoked out loced out |
| Im steady gankin on them bustas mane |
| Pullin out the street sweeper |
| I got ana off my chest |
| With any busta mothafucka who be tryna test |
| Not givin a fuck |
| I’m fuckin shit up |
| Knuckin and buckin im servin these suckas |
| I’m whipin these Glocks so be ready to run |
| Cause im on the hunt |
| Choppin bitches heads off |
| Throw em inside of the shadow, bitch |
| Aim yo Glock so fuckin quick cause im burnin up yo body bitch |