My shirt, purple label my shirt
Its no days off, although i'm bored to work
Work straight out the kitchen
My words are my rhythm
To have my name engraved is my crave till my grave x2
Probably seen meaner bars probably in the feds
That's because thats these compton streets was built not to win
My words are my ignition for my ammunition,
My shit thigh like my bootstraps
He pumped reeboks, his uncles pumped packs
My streaks my testament.
Ha, wale you so arrogant
My demeanor, thirty years my senior
Watch how quickly they find a new leader
Cause if i shoot blanks, oops, thanks
Got my head in my hands.
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