in the talk shop.
None of them no want war with me, the AR-15 is in the car with me.
Me real, the whole of them want to obey me, kill boy me good day and make family sick.
Sit back and watch them family grieve, me full of demons but me a not a meddling.
Weed in a brain, gun in a hand, me love for be paid.
Shot a crash in a boy body like it's a G.
The sound of the chip on the clock, when the juvie circling me in a wick and a frack.
Shot a big, big skin like a chicken attack, we send boy to a place where he can't come back.
Yeah, shot like real if I die.