Weightoven

I be like "Fuck the world and everybody in it" sometimes
 At times I feel like I'm alone like all my friends in my mind
 Say Hustle God, got street cred boy I never fell out my grind
 The most respected in this shit just to walk in the skies
 Could tell I ain't afraid to shoot ya from the look in this eye
 Maybe if I do bands up, show him a glimpse of that side
 My father outside he's ever spot you sparkin' you catch that fire
 If I burn you third degree you may or may not survive
 Puss
 Smoking bitch I got the same plug as Spit Vicious
 24K fuck off bitch
 Yeah the blunt tastes like gold it's delicious
 Keep on talking boy we know that you a pussy you fictitious
 Ratting out a woadie for a bag of silver you Judas-ish
 I do this shit
 Hustle Fam ambitious
 Slit wrist fisting bitches
 I ain't fresh to death
 My death is fresh
 I'm so clean but still got glitches
 Digging in a grave bitch
 I'm looking for the riches
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 Just another day high as fuck
 Ridin' round blowing pounds with the windows up
 I'm just addicted to drugs but I ain't ever giving up
 You ever walk up in a room and see no face you can trust?
 Treat these hoes how I want
 Shoot motherfuckers for fun
 If I was you I wouldn't smoke with
 Me you never know whats up in my blunt
 I was taught to rob and serve
 Make a sucker bite the curb
 Walking slow and talking slurred
 Spilling syrup on my shirt