Become a coach designer of body bags and coca leaves
And you are to serve the consequences of your evil schemes
Press, they look at me like i'm a menace
Make a convertible outta your lame lexus
I'm a winner , bags for disposing guys,
You ain’t seen nothing yet, bitch, this just my friday ice
As i pack my bags and head to mesa / where we getting our cake up/
Shit, i don't give a fuck, your family looking for you, wish them good luck
Stab him, put a arch on it, pour unleaded gas on him
Bags under my 'isaac', grinding to the laws of motion
Maybe i should pack my bags and go
Ferrari mikes, bitch, i’m on my car show
Inducing my movements / as i'm improving my fusing on tracks
One, two, three little fags, they fuck with my homies so i grab out the body bags,
To go from sellin’ bags to bottles right out the store
And maybe one day his kids, something that he'll live for
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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