It’s that North North player
Boy, these pills ain’t no Bayer
And this weed like an onion, you can smell it in the air
Cutthroat, Van Gogh, $licky the picture painter
My ho want me to save her, but at best I might betray her
I was never one to fit in, why would I bring a kid in?
This world fucked up and hard enough to just exist in
Riding around with that Glock, thinking “should I blow my tizzop?”
One last way to ball, kill myself while getting mizzo
$crim is fucking sober, but I smoke enough weed for the both of us
Hundred gang, my lungs are stained, just numb my brain, I can’t focus
Suppressing my emotions, turn ’em into concrete
Let ’em sink to the bottom of the ocean
Matter fact, I’ll turn ’em into raw meat, let the sharks eat
Gut the gar, please, I need to smoke, fuck, again I’m losing focus
Hit the weed, so I can go to sleep, I hate having dreams
They’re always fucked up and I wake up trying to breathe
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