(It's a Wayne beat) Yeah, Wayne, you tripped on this bitch Yeah I'm the reaper, I'm the one who chose your afterlife Okay (His name's Pablo) I'm the reaper, I'm the one who choose your afterlife Interrogate him, ask enough questions, he gon' tell a lie Bro keep pourin' up fours like he scared of five Glock like Medusa, leave him froze when it's in his eyes Yeah, let's compromise You can get this four for eight of zaz' for thirty-five Gettin' out the store for forty-five, sellin' blicks and 9s Take the Track' out, sellin' more whips than Randy Wise Only time I'm showin' my respect is at your candlelight I ain't boxin', if you tryna fight, then it's for your life For the green, I'll twist your top like a fuckin' Sprite Hella presidents in and out the house, but this bitch ain't white If one of my niggas die, they ain't goin' on a shirt We ain't goin' to make tees, we puttin' him in the dirt P90 with the fifty-round, hit him where it hurt Matter fact, I ain't speakin' that into the Earth 30 in my pocket, I'll pop it, but it's not a Perc' Unc' trapped off the M since I was a little squirt Never catch me lackin' 'cause I'm always plannin' for the worst Voice of the reaper in my head, man, I think I'm cursed Posted at the trap, Northside, where them demons lurk I ain't miss it when I shoot, before rap, I was a hundred first Posted all them guns on your story, but you never shoot How the fuck you on the block, boy, but you never shoot? Hit your top and run back to my spot, you a fuckin' goose Hittin' the road just to get some drip, you a fuckin' goof Lettin' a bitch play with your only stick, you so fuckin' loose Doin' donuts in the middle the street, runnin' from the troops Hangin' out the window, AR pistol with the top down If this bitch like another picture, she gettin' knocked down Bringin' 'bows down from the V, tryna touch down 'Noid as hell, ridin' with twenty-three up in Chi-town Mama said, "Keep doin' what you doin', you gon' be in the slammer" Gotta watch all your surroundings, you might be on camera My brother stay low-key, and I ain't Thor, but I keep a hammer Took the plastic off and poked her hole like a Kool-Aid Jammer Every song that you hear me in, I'ma add a lesson You old as hell with some young pape', your money adolescent In the Scat runnin' from the jakes, had to pass the weapon Drunk a four of green at nine and crashed at eleven I got a Kclog 32 extended clip, I wish the best for ya I mean Glock 23 with a pole, I got dyslexia Ghost-ride the whip, thought he was ridin' in a Tesla If I only get the neck, then my mans get the rest of ya Only want the money, lil' niggas ain't takin' shit Long K with an AR kit and banana clip If I see an opp, give him fifteen, that's a banana split When I'm fuckin' rappin', I be- huh Yeah, look I be fuckin' rappin' Go to Vegas, get some pounds, put it in some plastic Balenciaga, get this shirt from Prada, I be mixin' fashion Legal money wasn't enough, I had to switch my tactics