​a rap song lieu

[Intro]
I'm eating a jolly rancher

[Verse]
I'm making- I'm making money for sure
I keep that pole told lil bro "don't fold"
I keep that Glock and it go
And that mac got a scope
Keep that clip if you run up
Came with the stick out just like a drummer (tss, tss)
You gotta dig up your mother to hug her
And I'm making bands like a fucking pack runner
I feel like shine the way that I'm on rico charges
I'm on parole, I'm on parole for murder
I just killed a family of five
That gun doesn't have ammo in it like bro that's a lie
I can be off-beat and I am still fye
You cap on the gram like we ain't watching you at all times
I'm sipping wock until I go blind
I do not sip wock I don't even know if that shit happens
Glock about to clap like its magic
He talking shit we go spray at that faggot
And he want the rab method he can tap in
I feel like jame hallow tips never lacking
You hop on the beat and you go passive
I hop on the beat and I go aggressive
Your pockets more poor than the great depression
We bout to turn up in this bitch no need for compression
And that Glock with a dick boutta teach you a lesson
Just kidding
That Glock with a dick about to cave your damn head in
And that's the shit you'll be forgetting
RIP Bro now he's floating with angels in heaven
I'm making money like Devin