Goin’ for the grips every day ’til the grave
Through the cloudy nights and stormy days
A-town, nigga, yeah it's trap city
The cold wind blows to my skin it felt chilly
No matter of the gray, the clouds, or the stormy weather
They call me conscious, and i think i'm better
There's much more to life than just poverty
Trying to catch me riding dirty
Pockets on heavy d, bitch i'm hot, third degree
Heavy breaths slowing heart now my skin is gettin chilly
My ass got sulky n' grumpy
I'm sitting on this couch, wrist bloody
I came from the dirty south(that dirty south),
I'm on a thousand islands like mcdonald's cows
It's gettin chilly, i'm set to 0 degrees, sign your fees,
Well, i’m flyin' over, literally, flyin' over cities
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