Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Logan Spencer
Songwriter
Lyrics
I just want to rob or steal shit
Kill a motherfucker with a nine a steel switch
Smothered undercover when I ride
That blunt hittin' Wrist slitted Ima meet god
Tell that motherfucker die right now
I'm getting high right now touch the sky
Wanna be numb right now don't know why
Really don't like this life that I got
But ima make the best of it till I rot
Empty empathy don't really give a fuck
I empty magazines and still don't give a fuck
I run through your pockets I know I'm coming up
That boy feel funny till we get to buckin' up
And now he bitching he don't see the vision
Really think he need to finish the mission
Pieced up 5 feet to the face
Geeked up how we run to the bank
Fist fucked throw yo body away
Glock tucked what the fuck you gone say?
Four-tone purple blood mud and waste
That's fucked Sosa laugh at the case
That's tough see the bitch in is face
50 say we gettin' rich or we ain't
Minimum wage not the way that we rock
Rather be dead in a motherfucking box
Fist fucked throw yo body away
Glock tucked what the fuck you gone say?
Four-tone purple blood mud and waste
That's fucked Sosa laugh at the case
I got no patience
I got a problem I face it
Smoke 50 blunts and I'm sober I hate this
I got a pump on the road
Draco in the trunk I blast at the foes
I hate hoes
Don't need no bitch on my payroll
I made this beat and I spit cold
I whip the whip I got bankroll
Headshot when I shoot hoe
Red-dot on that coupe blow
His head off of a that roof go
Like anywhere that I want to no fucks given
I just want to rob or steal shit
Kill a motherfucker with a nine a steel switch
Smothered undercover when I ride
That blunt hittin' Wrist slitted Ima meet god
Tell that motherfucker die right now
I'm getting high right now touch the sky
Wanna be numb right now don't know why
Really don't like this life that I got
But ima make the best of it till I rot
Empty empathy don't really give a fuck
I empty magazines and still don't give a fuck
I run through your pockets I know I'm coming up
That boy feel funny till we get to Buckin' up
And now he bitching he don't see the vision
Really think he need to finish the mission
Pieced up 5 feet to the face
Geeked up how we run to the bank
Fist fucked throw yo body away
Glock tucked what the fuck you gone say?
Four-tone purple blood mud and waste
That's fucked Sosa laugh at the case
That's tough see the bitch in is face
50 say we gettin' rich or we ain't
Minimum wage not the way that we rock
Rather be dead in a motherfucking box
Writer(s): Logan Spencer
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