Temperatures risesniggas blinded by my lyrical disguise
On some mafia shit but i ain't fucking with that gang life
And you don’t understand my slang my colloquial’s lovely
Yo i got, guns from italy, smoke trees, considerably
Paid for trips to italy for me, her, my bro and dad.
It’s a fact that i ain’t givin’ up my stacks like that
A nigga just got paid and we still was broke
See i live by the code that the mafia wrote
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