probably say this
They say p*ssy and paper is poetry power and pistols
Plottin on murderin motherfukkers 'fore they get you
Picturin pitiful punk nikkaz coppin pleas
Puffin weed as I position myself to clock G's
My enemies scatter in suicidal situations
Never to witness the wicked shyt that they was facin
Pockets is packed with presidents, pursue your riches
Evadin the playa hatin tricks, while hittin switches
bytches is bad-mouth, cause brawlin motherfukkers is bold
But y'all some hoes, the game should be sewed
I'm sick of psychotic society somebody save me
Addicted to drama so even mama couldn't raise me
Even the preacher and all my teachers couldn't reach me
I run in the streets and puffin weed wit my peeps
I'm duckin the cop, I hit the weed as I'm clutchin my glock
nikkaz is hot when I hit the block, what if I die tonight