Killin' Spree

Wanting money for a spree
You did something mad, ohh
When you went out in the street
Perhaps you felt quite bad, felt quite bad
Felt bad, I did
I felt bad, I felt bad

Trapping keys like trapeze
Minus the need for the balance beam
Still got to that Freddy without the trap queen

No ads, I gave your team half the magazine
Please, somebody call the fashion police
Tapped up your rental, shot at the window, broken glass in the street
It's a tragedy, it's better half was in the passenger seat

My shooter got so many bodies, probably the only body
Hammer thottie, fucked everybody, more bodies to Samuel Gotti
But first, every homie gotta be ran by me
Every dime served in lobby, murder and robbery

The streets wild back then
Even T-bass had a mac 10
Never know who bangin', it'll be a rude awakening
When naked, try and locate where your bracelet is
My Jamaican bitch pass it to me like Jason Kidd
Baby cakes, that's a great assist

I just had to lay it in
Lay it in for the win, maybe even bang it and break the rim
Went crazy in the gym
I told them niggas get down, I lay down like JBM
Hopped in the gray BM

Don't throw the baby out with the piss
It is what it is when you're MC like D-Paper Thant
Thant like a vape pen, slim as an inmate's chance to escape the pen
The trigger's on the hammer, it's a hairpin, yeah, pimp

My Atlanta blitz sucked the air out of blimp
That's a cherry on a banana split
Shit

Wanting money for a spree
You did something mad
When you went out in the street
Perhaps you felt quite bad, felt quite bad

I did
Quite bad
Yeah, yeah
Bad

When Mossberg dropped, I couldn't afford a modem
Was disconnected at the moment
When I heard Reloaded, cheddar had started flowin'

Got some Mosin Petroleum on the elbow, the scale broke
Almost got derailed when 12 felt close, I couldn't fail though
Then hell froze over, I flex, I might neglect the Rover
Pull up slower and something white and cheery at the Nestor Soza

Met the quota, I lay vocals, that's compressing coca
That's the focus, I could write a poem and finesse the podus
Check the motives, for a check I don't respect the motions
Had to shake my ex, now the organs in her chest is broken

Grew up on Goya, now it's often oysters I'm enjoying
Sure I'm a Goyan, but the lawyer I'm employing, reading the Torah
My silhouette and aura caught her, better wear the walls up
Shawty want a link with some eaters, blew this internet explorer

Hallelujah, gotta thank every college tour
I've been through it, got it out the sewer
Had to treat the booth like it was a tiny school bus
Provide the tour, pockets filled, on the squat velour
Popping off, I stomp you wearing silk like two boxers caught
What?

Willie, you're a writer too, you've written some great songs
When you write, what comes first?
Since you're a musician also, a great trumpet player
Does the music come first or the words?
No, I usually put the music together
I put the music together, then the words come