Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks
Dead man beside em and he takes his guns and mags
I cop weed for less of a percentage than i fucking plot seeds
Sell drugs, shoot guns, make you yell "oh!", now you pushin up daisies
Jump into the car to peel out of the gas station
They wanna see a nigga lose but i’m destined to win
My entendres be tumblin’ while you niggas lack balance
Fuck rappin' about smokin' drugs, they hurtin' your lungs, tons, of guns.
Of having so much drugs, so much drugs
Stack up your funds like a million bucks
Or classic misdirection it's a collection of weapons of war
And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for
Bitch, i hit one button, my roof open like a hard spot
Welcome to hell's plot, the war on drugs prevail not
Beaverton my sneaker game although i never be with ducks
Most people made of blood and organs but i'm made of drugs
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