I can only imagine
Grab my knife and my gun
Flow stop like a bullet hole clot
Pork on the fork, white in the pot
In a convoy to the bank
The faker they shakin' my hand
You talkin bout toting that gun
Lord knows that four door fit eight women
Let's pretend he never dreamed how to break the bank,
Know there's a barbed wire that's always in your past
Getting bank and that is literal
As i light one for ill will
Cut the commercial, he be texting all the side bitches
I grab the bullet, pack it in my gun, send it and finish,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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