Warfare

Are they throwing these cans at you
Yeah, they're chucking cans, but, uh
Fat boy in the back is hilarious

Can I talk my shit
Girl, can I talk my shit
Ay, jumped up off the porch and off the steps
Boy, you know I'm placing all bets
Runnin' base I could play for the Mets
You so green you should play for the Jets
Dreis took that gun charge cause they was scared
Roqi took that weed charge cause they was scared
I know Webbie finna ride until he dead
I'm still screaming rest in peace to Jez
All my fans compare me to the vets
If you ask them, I'm up next
If you ask them, they glad I'm back
If you ask me, I never left
Sometimes I feel like I'm just here to serve
Cause my brother in the kitchen, he a chef
Plus, my sister went to school to be a nurse
So I'ma hustle 'til my last breath
If I ain't the hardest nigga on this earth
Boy, you must be smoking that meth
Go and get your bitch and ask her
The police finna get they ass left
Nigga, if you scared go to church
Before you go to bed, say your prayers
But I don't even know if that'll work
Fuck with me, you still gon get your ass aired
But at least you putting God first
Maybe it's some room for you upstairs
But right now you going in the dirt
Right now you ain't going nowhere
And I'm finna drop some new merch
Man, it ain't no way it won't sell
I'ma put these niggas on shirts
Then I'm finna put them on sale
I start my day off with a blunt of purp
And then I serve this shit with no scale
Won't catch me on no roller coaster
Only fair you see me in is warfare



Credits
Writer(s): Bryce Newton
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link