Untitled Song

They like “get back,” I’m posted where the threats at

Slept on me, now I’m creeping where the rest nap

Best strap, I ain’t talkin’ no seat belt

Grew up where a cold stare’ll make the heat melt

Put me on the top bunk, still had my steps right

Talk slick, I'ma twist you like a bread knife

Now they pray to me like "please, don't end life"

Cold like a fridge with the meat left in it

Speak like a priest with a freak next to him

Fine dust float when the needle hit the crate

And I still got bars like I’m locked in a top state

Mention my name, and you better not stutter

I’m cold with the aim, split a verse like butter