Testin’ the water, Found it boilin’ Boy you stepped in some shit. All hollerin’ in these mountains Is gust of the wind. Niggas like you a get dusted; Murked. Death speaks, I listen close ‘Cus the mothafucka likes to murmur. The shows on Til there’s curtains on me. Would like to see one of you niggas Put a hurtin’ on me. Think you can fly off whiskey courage, You Get put to the test Or put to the curb; My foot on they neck. One foot in they grave, One foot in they urn, And that’s the type of shit you earn Hopping in shit that don’t concern you. Next time you see a blaze, Let it burn.
Written By Shawn Demetrius Price Published by Golden Mile Studios - All Rights Reserved