Under pressure i don't sweat like my pores shut
Takin' clips from the magazines like killers, filled up,
Have you with professional killas, chasing hits
Full clips of ammunition on you pumpkins
Let me rideuntil i get free
Got 30 shots started actin silly
Reason i stuck with the sound
Sack 30 feet in the ground.
Definition of cold: ice, 30 below
Addicted to stardom, a wish to blow
And if you disagree, suck a couple pimple-covered dicks
I cut the finest weed down, and smoke like my glock clips,
Cops frisk with the glock clips, now they stop and freeze,
Me and my niggas swarm on you like the killer bees
I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed
Like chris paul with clips of all your bitches getting triple holed.
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