Don’t know which one i’ma drive, fuck it, i’m just gone fly
By selling drugs and pissin hot and gettin high
Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups
Who live up in dark alleys, and are taking those crazy drugs,
Beaverton my sneaker game although i never be with ducks
Most people made of blood and organs but i'm made of drugs
Hit strip clubs find bitches with big butts
Drivin' my impala and selling drugs
All around theres death,drugs, and rape
That involve ballpark franks and silver duct tape
Because your pops wasn't anxious
Drugs, sex, killing and lots of madness
Good kids make bad grown ups
And get me some more drugs
But fuck that, i live in the hood and we need y'all cats
Theft of a man's chest it's like gangs test and exams
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