Lyrics
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?
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