Thats why we're always goin and we don't gotta go with them
Stirrin' a crock of shit like the rocks for the cops to rob 'em,
Accustomed to the consistency like dammit how
Look over your shoulder, i am a man now
Trying to rob my lyrical bank,
Cause i got the burner in the hand
Like how we supposed to uphold
And i drop top off in a hot cold
You reflect in this heart of mine
Rob you on the street with the nine
I go back to my friend rob.
Okay man you do the drop
All my nights i stayed up hopin a nigga don't rob
No pork on the fork, but it’s white in the pot
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