SICK MIND UNAVERAGE GANG

[Verse 1: T.R.I.P.]
Hit a mothafucka with Mossberg pump
To the chest and I'm aiming my Glock
Pointed right at your head
Talking that shit, bitch
So that's what you get
I do not fuck with you, I'm bouta flip
Hit mothafucka in the dome piece
Why they all talking
Like they thinking like they know me
Ayy
Tie a mothafucka then I throw 'em in the back seat
Dump him in the river as I'm laughing
Ayy
Murder is living inside of my mind
And I can't get away from it
I don't know why
I do not fuck with no labels
No handouts, no fake shit bitch
You are just wasting your time
I just focus on myself
My gang, my bank roll
I do not need any help
Wouldn't have gotten this far fearing to fail
In the end, we all just burning in hell
Lately I'm losing my patience
Sometimes I think that I'm going insane
Ever just sit back and think
That one day we all just end in the grave
Some say this life is a game
Get the fuck out of my way
I live and I die for my gang
I better go out with a bang