Blow 5
Dark Lo; Ar-Ab
Popularity ยท Low
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Lyrics
I'm hearing static in my phone, they got a track on me
You was tryna do a song, I got this MAC on me
I asked, "You shot him in his dome?" He said, "Facts, homie"
You did enough for the set, just relax, homie
Drought time, I kept it real, I put a tax on him
In a meeting, it went sour, I pulled my strap on him
I'm through the roof and then the sky, ain't no cap on me
I got it locked, but I ain't locked, ain't no latch on me
They only bring it to me whole when I get to work
I'm pulling babies out the pot like it's giving birth
Traffic stop, bubble guts when I'm getting searched
Emptied the FN on him and it didn't jerk
I'm using Sun Tzu tactics, war is an art
Riding with two birds like it's Noah's Ark
Them suckers landed every bullet when they hit the car
I was taught only broke niggas get it hard
And I was taught life lessons while behind the bars
(I swear, I was taught life lessons behind that bitch)
OBH Records is more like an army
I blew a dime in twenty seconds, I'm fresh out of Barney's
Allah protect me from the friends that wanna harm me
On my name alone, he strapped, I bet you I'll disarm him
Told the lookout, "Just whistle when they come alarm me"
Life's a game, it's sunny now, but it just was stormy
He got killed, he put his gun up, it just was on him
Look, every charge was violence when I caught a case
I told Skinny go to sleep 'cause his lawyer paid
I got money in my safe that's my daughter age
Was kicked out of high school when I bought a gauge
My old head beat the feds, he found loopholes
I was twelve, shooting out in my school clothes
I sent a nigga on a hit and paid him two Os
FaceTime Dark Lo, we only use codes
The plug pitched it at me, I'm like Pujols
Get rich and stay rich, only two goals
Fuck the story, what's the moral? I'm tryna keep it cordial
Investigated, then he told, he couldn't keep his morals
Keep your pussy when we link, we just keep it oral
Don't come around me acting weird, we just keep it normal
Closed casket, your mom crying if I creep up on you
Eulogies and sad songs, I put the deacon on you
Homework a piece of cake, I spent the weekend on you
I ate killers on blood for a half a brick
Grave shifts, it was my pursuit of happiness
Was shot ten times, ain't know it was happening
Making bad bitches take a knee like Kaepernick
Chopper in the van, but it wasn't our plans
Interrogation room, I took a Rosa Parks stance
Fingertips numb, come from cutting hard grams
I bet every bullet land and that's with my off hand
I told A- hit me when it's (rain)
I'm in a loft chilling, this was God's plan
When it's war, it's no pauses, I go to different causes
You need a feature, I need a bag, I'm talking Santa Claus's
Now all I do is win, I couldn't stand the losses
Bagging dope is great work and bag land's the office
FedEx and Percocets, I hope it land in Boston
I done ate with the Bloods, I done run with the Crips
Walk around with Shawn Kemp number on my hip
I got a hundred men, I pray that none of them flip
If I jump in my bag, you getting one with the zip
I done lost all my conscience with the loss of my mother
Started popping Percocets in all different colors
It all come to double when that soft start to bubble
Tre pound six solid turn a skull to a puzzle