And I will murder, ever bumber clot run

Keep my hand, on my gun whoa

I don't think they want the beef, cause these type of problems ain't fin to go away

These friends I'm packing with me, remind ya don't ever fuck with Trae

And if these bitches get up in you, ain't no need to pray

Cause praying with this pain, will have you praying they take you away

I still post up, and let niggaz know I don't bar a thang

I'm gangstafied motherfucker, talk down and watch I make it rain

And it ain't nothing that can stop it, I promise you that

I put that on the Truth, my brothers and Mr. Fat Pat

Now if they really want it, these niggaz gon have to get it

I'm trying to put something on your mind, just so you don't forget it

My M16, will be the reason niggaz take a loss

When I get it out, just watch how fast this bitch'll rearrange your house

The shit I got, will make the laws back up and get the SWAT

But even what they got, will give it up cause these bullets be hot

I'm like original roster, who wanna run with me

Cause what I'm bringing out, don't think they wanna fuck with me

And I will murder, ever bumber clot run

Keep my hand, on my gun whoa

I keep a heater, but I'm known for my murder 16's

Killer speaker killer beats, so I murder 16's

So they M16's, tote a M16

I call it my bodyguard, cause they instance mean

In the streets of the city, it ain't no love

Them boys'll fuck you quick, without no glove

I'm riding, in haters road blocks

Them jackers don't stop, they'll blaze your whole spot

So a nigga on spot, with the gauges on cock

And them Orville Redenbach glocks, is on pop

So P.O.P., I will P-O-P

'Fore I let another mother-mother, squeeze on me

In the H to the T-X, you better pray or be X'd

They don't play you'll be next, you better raise your protection

Yes son, and just to see another day it's a blessing

So I keep a weapon, my

And I will murder, ever bumber clot run

Keep my hand, on my gun whoa

Is it me glock 40, bump-bump-bump-bump nope

Is it me 45, bump-bump-bump-bump nope

Is it me 3-57, bump-bump-bump-bump nope

Me M16, taping off the murder scene

Inhaling potent doja, with muddy cup of codeine

Me people don't even play me close, cause them don't know me

Me don't want no company, me kick it with me lonely

And will murder anyone of you snitches, run up on me

But my grandmother didn't raise a killer, she raised up a Christian

But the fact that I was already down, and people kept kicking

Made me crazy, that's why I got no love for nobody lately

And I told y'all once before, none of my weapons have a safety

Ru-run up on me once, I'ma beat your ass down

Ru-run up on me twice, I'ma heat your ass down

Place you in another dimension, nobody can see you now

Rest in peace, I'm the king of the streets yeah

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