Threat

Uh, yeah, whoa, yeah Still motherfuckers can't kill me I pop my motherfucking trunk, somebody film me Still motherfuckers can't feel me I'm on my motherfucking what's the fucking deal, G? 50 fucking thousand of them rounds For that five-o, fuck 'em, put it down Ayy, shit, my check gon' weigh like 50 fucking pounds How many bodies? Shit, I prolly couldn't count Ayy, tell 'em fuck rap I fucking hate taking pictures, I tell 'em fuck rap I fucking hate what it did to me, tell 'em fuck rap Them body bags with them zippers on 'em, it's fuck rap And get the fuck back Grow up Go get a job Be realistic, you could never get that far Fuck 'em, I'ma stand on they neck Work 'til I'm dead 'til I rot Motherfucker, I'm a threat Still motherfuckers can't kill me I pop my motherfucking trunk, somebody film me Still motherfuckers can't feel me I'm on my motherfucking what's the fucking deal, G?