My smoke is in quality shapes
The tobacco I buy is all over my vein, I feel it.
The walls of my room are black, the couch is blue, I have 1 bitch in my lap and 10 bitches in my room.
The last sound is the music, we're experiencing an adrenaline rush, the cowards are dreaming of me.
Wooow, what are you going to do, gangsta?
Race me, man, I'll be your target
Drill music raises fever, alcohol reaches blood
I mean it when all eyes are on me.
If two kings are going to be at the top, I'm best targeted in a hail of bullets in the left window of the car.