My rhymes aid your decomposition,
It's my fact y'all are fiction with diction
With my guns your get antiquated
No less profit, themed when we drop shit
You can never tell me that i'm not hungry
My beating heart telling me your my remedy
My gun your scars, your wrist your calls
So i went down south but i ended up north
But five years from now i bet she see
Your words engraved on my body
No fx, in these doper than sess sessions son
Get on your knees,cos your stepping in my region
Ima go until my arm's sore
Your eyes it's my paradise, your
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