I dont give dap to fake niggas, caz later im a get ya
Fucken pull the trigga to ur back, when u walkin with ur sista
Leave her stunned, then I pull out on a fast one
Run to the nearest gun shop, sell it back to the clerk for him to stash em
Make ur platinum unhappen, cant take ur gold to hell
And ur fucken new shit u put out, is to cold to sell
im not going to jail, caz u fell to understand
That I covered up my trail, and blamed it on another man
Im a sneaky little fellow, like the fucken people running the taliban
put ur family in an unbreakable trance, change the rhythm of they dance
Plan roled over well, hands washed off from ur doings
ur persuing shit cautiously, while court families are still fueding
Good news and liability options bein thrown, im getting blown
By ur momma and ur sister, got they butter fly balls deep to my bone
And I just writing this letter, hopin ur getting better
Maybe u can write me back soon, and reveal the truth about the weather
Is it flamin fire over 3000 degrees, burnin ur skin
Or is it lame and ur in dire need of some learnings when
The devil himself is torchin ur ass, got the pitch fork in ur scrotum
Tellin u that u been a bad boy, wantin more fun from the techniques u showed em
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