Death is Callin

Big dawg, my circumference is full of those
 I'm uncomfortable 'round these hoes
 'Cause I know they gave 'em the drop
 My dawg facin' murder, they think I gave him the chop
 Paid attorney service, they think I gave him the guap
 I'm a fella, baby
 And we confirmed the allegations, niggas tellin', baby
 It ain't a time the suckers died and we ain't celebrated
 We'll have 'em section off your section likе it's segregated
 Ayy, hеavy doses when indulgin' in the medication, medicated
 Ayy, how it's millions in his bank and he uneducated?
 You better not pull up to mi casa without no reservation
 Blind niggas lead the blind without no destination
 I press ignore and I ain't answer, I think death was callin'
 And then I got a text from brother like the check was callin'
 We hecksa ballin', nigga hecksa hella extra ballin'
 It's HGM until I'm tortured, I'ma rep regardless
 Yeah, we gon' step regardless
 I press ignore and I ain't answer, I think death was callin'
 My youngin died eleventh grade, ain't get a chance to ball him
 We gon' pop these bottles for him, lift your Rollies up
 And never speak his name in vain if you gon' blow it up
 I press ignore and I ain't answer, I think death was callin'
 My youngin died eleventh grade, ain't get a chance to ball him
 We gon' pop these bottles for him, lift your Rollies up
 And never speak his name in vain if you gon' blow it up
 Uh, demonic behavior, it's hard to savor
 Switchin' jerseys in the fourth quarter on us, them niggas traitors
 If he don't bet the fader, we gon' strip him for his paper
 Duckin' off in Vegas with a mansion by the Raiders
 The fallen ain't forgotten, I'ma bee you niggas later
 Yeah, youngin 'nem forever in my favor
 40 with the laser, HGM leather blazer
 Multi-million dollar neighbors, throw the sixes on the scraper (ah)
 Miss me with the hatin', I got guala on the menu
 Niggas holler fourth, but I'm for surely that ain't in you
 Ayy, call me for the kill 'cause that's the type of shit I'm into
 You ain't cook nobody when you caught him, you was fin' to
 Fella in my trenches, niggas treat me like the Big U, on God
 We ain't drivin' by, we finna skid through
 You just see the shine and don't acknowledge what we been through
 I tell 'em all the time, "Your time comin' if it's meant to," on God
 I press ignore and I ain't answer, I think death was callin'
 My youngin died eleventh grade, ain't get a chance to ball him
 We gon' pop these bottles for him, lift your Rollies up
 And never speak his name in vain if you gon' blow it up
 I press ignore and I ain't answer, I think death was callin'
 My youngin died eleventh grade, ain't get a chance to ball him
 We gon' pop these bottles for him, lift your Rollies up
 And never speak his name in vain if you gon' blow it up
 ♪
 (This is Jay P Bangz)