7th Grade

Uh, seventh grade, I was sick of [?], smokin' hella weed
Baby, please, don't fuck up my high, don't fuck up my chi
Okay, woah, okay, okay, woah, they don't want smoke with me
Okay, woah, okay, okay, woah, ho, don't fuck up my cheese

X's on my face, I'ma live and I'll die by it too
Realize your demise when I slide out the coupe
Second coming, He arrive when I ride to the stu'

South of the Strip, feed his mouth with my fist
My middle finger up with no fucks to give
It's a drought for this shit, got a mountain of spliffs
'Cause it's smoke for the world when I up my SIG (Cig)

Ayy, 2K baby, gotta make some' shake, gotta shake some'
Ayy, lot up on my plate, I'm buggin' the facе, 'boutta break some'
Tell mе all your fears, tell me, tell me, I can feel the end is near
I can feel it in my mind, in my body, my soul
Here I go again, talkin', I'm all on the road
(Tell me, tell me, tell me)

Thirteen shots in the Hellcat, ridin' 'round the city
Where my Glock or my chop at? (Skrrt)
Big stepper, know when I pop out
Tell lil' Brodie grab the Drac', make 'em duck down
Brand new boots, let me stomp down
1942 got me throwin' like a thot now
Bust down, rebound, let 'em catch a hot round
Fifteen shots from the Glock leave a big frown

Tell that bitch I'm not a simple man
I do not really like fuckin' with middlemen
Geeked off the fumes and adrenaline
I took my vitamins, turned to a Letterman (Strip)

Uppin' all these Drac's for like three nights
Walk in the function with Percs and a big pipe
Let me see the image, gon' get swiped
Brodie spin the block, he a [?]

Ayy, Kurt Cobain, [?] right above his chest
Now he lo mein, arm, leg, leg, arm, head on the floor
Aim at the opposition, chopsticks, dump the whole thing, huh
Yeah (Yeah)

Stressed out, go pass me a Red
Extended clip touchin' my legs
Pull up in Hellcats to spin
I cannot beef with the opps, they all dead

I came bustin' out the roof
Whole gang double-S, rappin' in the booth
Ten toes down like the troops
I be movin' militant, put him up on the news, okay

AR clip, gon' put him on the news
Big ol' Glock gon' make bro snooze
Big knots, I keep lit thots
Treat 'em like a dog, I keep red dots

Boy, I'm nice at whippin, turned a Schwinn to a Porsche
Smellin' death up in the air make me snort
Man, your clique ain't hard with .38s on your porch
I could mole your spirit, don't get smoked like a Port, bitch