Hundred k in twenty-two hours
That's my in the life south.
Duct tape and tied to the motherfucking bed post
And be the last nigga left, then i'll be ghost
Cook up and run where i'm from, the south son,
There are times when you'll need someone
A rebel tho, i dont hold my lips
Whores, cocaine laws and sirens
Real words...elegant: a piece of art
And like light post i be shining in the dark
Now i’m killing these shows, i just deliver the hope
Im the lyrical hangman this post the rope
A military mind mean money
Intervals polluting the economy/
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