517 until the grave
.223 at your brain
Two million blunts to the face
Bones bout to make a stain
Pulling up, rolling deep
Prototypes on my feet
Touch the paint, you get beat
Touch the ice, feel the heat
Try to rob me? Thats a no, no
AUG and that bitch blow, blow
With the team, never ever solo
Push it, shit, push it back in slow-mo
Ayy, switchblade on my body 
Profit all in my pocket 
Hit the switch and get to droppin
Got a 64 with hydraulics 
Boom, now youre doomed
24 karat cover my tomb
Dont make me go back to the shit I used to do 
Ice cold mason, pressed juice vagrant
Hundred fifty dollar candles posh with the fragrance
Need to leave the city soon, I need me some acres
Raise my son right til my bones turn ancient
Back on the motherfuckin prowl 
Im the past and the future and the fuckin right now
Blunt guts by the pile, only purchasin in pounds
Habits that I got demand a lot of my account
517 until the grave
.223 at your brain
Two million blunts to the face
Bones bout to make a stain