Track 13.) 2 cups freestyle (2 cups)
Smoke until i ain't got no lungs
And yeah we up in stadium, quarterbacking hoes
It's the rise of the reaper, collecting lost souls,
Kicking flows, pockets about as thick as strippers on poles
The mainstream is selling out, giving their bodies and souls,
Or shift keys or it i placement cause
Sos, save our souls. make me boss.
Feed it as it consumes our souls,
Man i swear she's bad and she knows
Man in the race for souls for money
You can never tell me that i'm not hungry
I see so many familiar faces, amongst these damned souls,
In my room, redefinin' the meanin' of black holes
Eating souls from fatalities granting me immortality,
Tired of making money, i'm on to making history
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