Black fours red drop head doors
The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.
Baby mothers quittin school, nigga now it's up to her
I'm a forest walker, foggy talker, cold morning proper
In the heat of the summer,
I gotta bounce, i don’t call her
And the thirst, just the worst, it's the curse of the juice!
And i done seen some old beefs make a bunch of news
December 4th a star was born
Whos been in the forest too long
I could hold you down in a forest or a field
I did a little stint, shout out to the south east
Still hear that laughin' under breath while the orlando police
Smoke the trees like forest fires, they provide a golden fleece,
In the coupe with the tec, it's the home of the brave
Playing soccer, stupid, stay in a sucker's place
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