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These bitches think they fly, like tinkerbellīut they all on my wire, like Stringer Bell I touch the sky, get the clouds out my fingernails Thats them twin Glocks, you can call them siblingsĪnd them bullets travel, better hope I keep dribblin' I got this shit wrapped up, bow and a ribbon I'm a gangsta by choice I hope my son's choose wiser Yeah the streets is talking, I'm familiar with the voice Ok, I'm walking on needles, sticking to the point Some say this shit is a joke well I hope they get it I know my shit already tight so I aint screwing with it You keep opening ya grill, I'm barbequeing with it I'm so cold I'm hypothermic, ask yo bitch she will confirm it
If you sleeping on me, than I hope you toss and turning If I knew I was going to jail I would have f-cked my attorney Nothing standing in my way, like nothings my securityīack to my journey, that bullshit don't concern me Only God can judge me, I don't need a jury I'm Weezy F baby and the F aint for "Flaw" I'm searching for today instead I found tomorrowĪnd I put that shit right back like I'll see what I find tomorrow They say "you don't know what you're doing till you stop doing it"Īttention all shooters, I'm a shooting star Highway to Heaven, God do you see my headlights? Now I'm looking in my rear view, I see the world in it
We in in the same picture but we all got different poses Sleepin' at the top, dreamin of the bottomīut who am I to talk? I ain't shittin' roses
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