'Fore I was so rudely interrupted Russell T, if it was up to me, would have been Pillsbury Thinking when Bread Man die, what I'ma tell Terry? Come with me, run quick see, I'm calling Hail Mary Brad, William buried that's some pain a nigga still carry I'm still married to this Game Time life of crime Been had my mind made up, I knew just what it was And what came with the aftermath of me selling drugs Sean Carter, Vol. 3..., these are the life and times Swiping lines, catching pops, I had to spike a nine With grenadine, it made the lean look like some iodine Plug on the pints, he just did a five fed For them blood barrels, a big thick Betadine keg Tried to steal a nigga bop, that's all we know, it's plagiarism Got these niggas mad at Blocks 'cause God been showin' favoritism Know some niggas on that rock fighting an open case in prison 'Cause where we grow up, dope is all we know to make a living Let's get it And I'm still learning I come to you as a humble servant, still undetermined Of what it even means to be God-fearing Praise to Allah, he got me turnt up like the power-steering The whole time, them voices in my head that I was hearing That same voice, if I ignore, gon' have my mom tearing Crouched over my casket, the world still turning Late to my own funeral, I pray I miss the sermon Kill all rats, we get rid of vermin Scheduling synos depending on what it's concerning My DSquared's Canadian, my whip is German Shoot a nigga dead off his lily pad if you feeling Kermit Caught him cupcake and upped and made him get in the 'burban Duck taped and trunked his shit, tell him to quit the squirming Your bitch so quick to drop the load, tell her to send the current Brody was screaming, "Fuck the world" until his dick was burning Shot his teeth out, they might have to consult his dentist Won't ever speak down, not even if I know your business Repping the D-town where you gotta post on your pivot No photo credits, shoot a nigga like he photogenic He tote extendeds with them switches, cranking meth and flocka Them one forensics getting anxious trying to catch a collar Two achie-breakies on the back seat of a red Impala Can't take no more shorts or no losses, I need every dollar And I'm still learning I come to you as a humble servant, still undetermined Of what it even means to be God-fearing Praise to Allah, he got me turnt up like the power-steering The whole time, them voices in my head that I was hearing That same voice, if I ignore, gon' have my mom tearing Crouched over my casket, the world still turning Late to my own funeral, I pray I miss the sermon