Getting high, see the demons in my eyes, before i die
Nowadays you look empty, ya love runnin on a low supply
You can get ya cash on nigga if ya peep
Yo those dealers near your house don't supply no heat,
In the field of the damned, the only sentries are the crows.
You got your mean little walk with the model pose
So these bars not mine, nigga it's yours
The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.
Movin, eyelids low cause my bills too high
Automatic possessing with intent to supply
Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla
So call the coroner or the mortician for the the
Away the tragedy, so i stay sucker free
So much dough i supply the bakery
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