obituary
DJ Scream, Waka Flocka
Hood Rich
Clayco, we in this motherfucker, man
I’m back, now I’ve been all around the motherfucking world man
42 cities, 11 countries
Nigga, I’m still touring man
Off 3 years ago music and I’m still making millions off my old shit
I’ll bust your head, it ain’t shit to me!
Have you planking dead, it ain’t shit to me!
Flocka!
Arms up, screaming "Victory!"
Obituary, read you out of history (x4)
Have you rob me, statute death a unsolved mystery
Rappers coming out the closet like they Jason Collins
Rappers beef with other niggas, they don’t want these problems
I just get it popping, grew up, I didn’t have an option
My youngins, they ain’t got a option, they’ll shoot your shit up
That’s facts nigga, stay strapped, nigga
Ridin 'round town with that same fat, nigga
That’s D Dash, when he smash, choppa with a blast
6 hour surgeries and a body cast
Ah, ride on the enemy
Give a fuck about this industry
Shoot one, I shoot two, you know the remedy
Headshot, top back, J.F. Kennedy
Adopt your soul, it ain’t shit to me (Adios!)
Bodies dropping, I see murder like Master P
Obituary, you just made history
No prints, just an unsolved mystery
Copped my first strap when I was 14
20 shot, real painkiller like morphine
Dope bars, add em up, I need more fiends
I can see it in his face, he soft as Ice Cream
Wooh da Kid, Waka Flocka – bad news
I swear these boys nuts, no cashews
Cross the line, you gon' die today
Dropping money on ya head like he DOA