Yeah, the revolution is the genocide Look, your execution will be televised Don't cross me like Isaiah, that shit be ill-advised (Woo) Dark horse, rap black sheep, they got me vilified Castratin' niggas in they feelings on IG (Uh) Will never let this industry demasculinize me (Nah) I do murder barefaced, don't need no mask to disguise me Threw my FN in the stash, I think the cracker's behind me, damn He pulled me over, I asked him, "Yo, what's the problem, sir? I swerved to ducked the potholes, man, I had no option, sir Just let me go 'cause my license, insurance proper, sir I'd hate to be on the run for smokin' an officer" We were bustin' at police before Queen & Slim, that's on FN Let off fifty shots to the squad car and get in the wind Told the Gary Police in '05 that I got more guns than them Get the feds if you want a war, and they sent them bitches in
The revolution is the genocide Yeah, my execution might be televised Cross niggas like Bubba Chuck, I never gave a fuck Shot a ho like Kareem, but I never leave the Bucks Sick with the ack, me and Jack, pourin' three liters up It hurt to say I miss you, the real ones always be leavin' us Caught up in the moment, most niggas foldin' or freezin' up Sometimes it be your own damn homies, Judas set Jesus up
Yeah, the revolution is the genocide Made a sex tape with your bitch, that pussy televised Thug nigga with some exotic dreams, erotic dreams Fuckin' hella thots, but I really want me a Scottie Beam Shit was different when Mike left and it was Scottie team Ex won't take me back, without me, the bitch wouldn't have got a ring Yeah, the revolution is the genocide Tell a ho she don't know nan', Trick Daddy, Slip-N-Slide, nigga Kane
Uh, 305 in my yayo Subject to let a bitch snort a line off the dashboard of my '75 Caprice, that is Yo (M-M-Maybach Music)
You need a dictionary when you write your raps (Uh) Went to the penitentiary just for a hundred sack (What?) I had a vision back when I was fishin' for a bass But they won't listen 'til you in your kitchen countin' cash I got the dollars, motherfuck a nigga's credit score (Boss) Big bag of chronic like I'm sackin' up at Interscope (at Interscope) My pistol polished, any problems, I'ma pull that ho Peter Parker, but I've yet to reach my pinnacle (Lord)
Bitches lookin' at me, shawty wanna see my soul (M-M-M) All my jewelry on, she only see my gold (Haha) I'm prayin' for my guys, pray you sing along (Yes) I fuck bitches in my ride, I never bring 'em home She sees just how I ride and slip her panties off He wanted war until they hit 'em with a cannonball (Bang) Spark spliffs, raw kicks, I give 'em Clark Kent Common sense, no Prince, strictly the mob hits (What? M-M) Exhale weed, ship it from the West (West) My brain begin to seize when I'm needin' rest (Yes) Kobe Bryant when we speakin' very best (Lord) I pray for Gigi, wonder if she'll get to see me next Biggest (M-M-Maybach Music)
