Pulp Fiction Ransom & Nicholas Craven

[Intro]
Word, word, son
Yeah, pass the chron though
We gotta hit the block like, like seven o' clock, man
Them fiends out there
We gotta get there, man, let's get it, man
Hurry the fuck up, man

[Verse 1]
Grand vials, two razors, a pile of dishes, survival wish list
Couple grams snorted in Bible scriptures, I'm wild and vicious
Send the foulest bitches to hit 'em, dressed as my rival's mistress
Fire biscuit, blood on the wall lookin' like hieroglyphics (Bla-ouw!)
Yeah, I ain't never hide specifics
Besides I'm gifted, and I ain't tellin' lies to risk it (Nah)
The streets anointed me, I'm royalty
Y'all never was there when it came to lawyer fees
While I was on trial watchin' my lawyer freeze (Damn!)
In my cell fightin' for toiletries
You was in Chow's, rice with the soy and beans
Enjoyin' greens, shrimp tempura, dumplings, avoid the steam
You probably wish I died in that cell, but I destroyed ya dream
(Y'all niggas wish) I'm Belichick with a loyal team, niggas hated
Came home flourishin', left the pigs deflated (Hahaha)
Street sermons to get 'em teary eyed
We eerie guys, the rounds get Wilder so watch my Fury rise