Don’t even bother showing my nigga....
The 9 tucked! You’ll catch a shell when I’m blammin mine/
If I ride up...I’ll put KS on the pole like a Welcome to Kansas sign/
Think sleep paralysis! I’ll let something sit on ya chest once the arm drawn/
I creep n matics lift. A chest shot put his heart on his shirt like Comme des Garçon/
No lick of talent, but you calling out Bleak...damn near bitchin bout it/
Fuck a battle...yall fatasses need to spotlight a fitness challenge/
What you gone do, bitch? Stick to this fruit on some fondu shit/
Or the can on top ya head....then it kick off the ya dome like a King Fu trick/
Scope wit a long zoom. Even from distance I can harm you/
Fuck Josh Allen....you can catch one 90 yards away from this arm too/
Peep my violent streak. I’ll let matics fly til this bastard die/
It’s Greek mythology....Styx’ll send you to the afterlife/
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