I pray the lord my guns to keep
Niggas runnin round carrying heat
I’m way harder than the concrete
Ugh fuck turn up the heat,
When timbo is in the party, everybody put up they hands
I'll storm down blundering muttering "recovery" cause there is no chance,
Because i'm seventeen, compose my own beats
I'm blowin' fuckin' steam off like boats with paddle wheels,
I'm stunting, got em sick to their stomach
We blowin' off the steam when we really unplugged,
And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see
If i was in a different position would i still need recovery?
Last of a dying breed
A peanut in the heat
It's not a figure of speech when i tell you that i dumped her
Spit hot enough to make the tea steam and the kettle hotter
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