A Way Out

Pack touched down, I spread it like a rumor
Oldschool sweatsuit, velour with the Puma
Mezcal-Mexican, cigar from Cuba
You are my child, my son, my junior

If it's real then salute ya
Snakes in the grass, turn ya back-they will shoot ya
Boy got shot, walked it off-he a trooper
But I'm still running from the shells, King Koopa

The coke kept getting stepped on
Hit his crib, swept the floor like a Roomba
We only link to talk business, I don't hang out
I'm stuck in the trap, still looking for a way out

One foot in the drug game
PTSD, still think bout the blood stains
Almost got a shotgun, but that aint enough range
Boy sweet as sugar, don't pump cane

What you know about the cops searching through the vehicle
Had to tuck the pack, and you nervous cuz there's a three of you
Cant give my energy to those who don't return it
Only hit me when convenient but you left me when I needed you

Here's a gift, suck my dick, that's from me to you
Forty-five, in your eyes, playing peekaboo
Had to keep it cool, I don't need to shoot
These niggas sweet, they seedless fruit

If you need the recipe, I got it in my head
Niggas only shooting, because violence is a trend
Boogeyman glock, I got a monster by the bed
Could've caught a body, but I ain't blinded by revenge

Pack touched down, I spread it like a rumor
Oldschool sweatsuit, velour with the puma
Mezcal-Mexican, cigar from Cuba
You are my child, my son, my junior

Plug hit me, told me he got ten ready
Double that and we good to go
We only link to talk business, I don't hang out
I'm stuck in the trap, still looking for a way out

If he got a problem then he better see me
Loved ones just keep dying, and it's never easy
Bad lil bitch on my hip, she Nefertiti
How you got Alfredo with no fettuccine

I went from feeling stuck in a bear cage
To champagne drunk on a airplane
You can try your luck, it's a fair game
Fuck that, he can get the nickel, its spare change

I was hiding in the slums, smoke frying up his lungs
Never touched money, you a liar and a bum
Think fast, step up in the booth, drink gas and set fire his tongue

Laying on the floor, just coughing up blood
Kick him, why you fuck up my new rug
This ain't highschool, I don't do drugs
Just say what you need, and I'll get you plugged

Pack touched down, I spread it like a rumor
Oldschool sweatsuit, velour with the Puma
Mezcal-Mexican, cigar from Cuba
You are my child, my son, my junior

If it's real then salute ya
Snakes in the grass, turn ya back-they will shoot ya
Boy got shot, walked it off-he a trooper
But I'm still running from the shells, King Koopa

The coke kept getting stepped on
Hit his crib, swept the floor like a Roomba
We only link to talk business, I don't hang out
I'm stuck in the trap, still looking for a way out