Ends (feat. Jocko Slim)

Stuck in a state full of hate for race
Civil War flashbacks don't know why well then just come to my place
Friends turn to enemies don't know why then get out of my face
Nigga I don't play
Won't take your knee off his neck then I'll stomping on yours
Bruh I'm just tired and bored
Bored cause I'm a little poor
Tired cause I'm grinding hard
What you out here grinding for
Not drugs or whores
Stuck inside the room it gets a little looney so just stay tuned in for more
Throwing the fastball checking my pitch cause I gotta hit the perfect chord
That's an extention
Of my plans they caught his mans red on his hands it wasn't really his intention
New intervention
Selling grams don't make a man it's all about the plan it's all about intention
How much you spending
Doesn't matter it's all made of matter but don't nothing matter
Hear the message that I'm tryna send yuh
Hey bender
What
How many rules is you bending
None
Guess he mean all of em
I'm breaking down columns
Just like a Christian that went to the chapel just for him to give thanks up to Allah
You follow
I'm Hitman no Holla
Won't stop chasing gualla
No chain lost my collar
My son gone need Gucci and Prada
Pride swallowing niggas follow but I'm never following and never falling man
My phone get to calling friends
Seen so much guess you can call it the ends
Call it the ends aye
From the eight O four
To the five four O
On FOE

Y'all niggas fucked up putting us on the track together
On god
I mean it's too late now fuck it
OTG
You claim that you real I know that's a lie
You say you gone kill but nobody died
These fake real niggas is what I despise
Just stay up in yo lane and I'll stay in mine
You stupid ass niggas just running your mouth
Always get me in trouble but you can't get me out
They say we misguided and we run the wrong route
When we really just tryna make the money to count
They hate to speak the truth cause it hurts they feelings
But my words are like bullets and they armor piercing
And they shoot through anything that stand in they way
Like a school shooter when he get fed up and spray up the whole school
Shooting up his whole grade
I ain't even in the streets
Tryna reach to old age
Gotta get the money bruh
No more minimum wage
We ain't on the same book
Let alone the same page
We might be the same age
But my mind on some different shit
I think so hard that it bleed like a bleed like a slitted wrist
These niggas do a lot of shit that ain't necessary
Your dad a bitch so I'm guessing it's hereditary
Me and PITty we combine and make a strong force
We stand tall we ain't never coming up short
Put us together we be standing like we ten four
We made a banger and you know we making plenty more

Ha PIT