Get a job (Lars Diss)
See yall confused. Box
-den ain’t where I’m from
I’m from da future
you can tell from da accuracy I’ll still shoot ya
When I punch it’s like karate-fused box n,
Gun so big it came wit a fuse box, n
anybody come looking for a few’s boxed.
you worked for a morgue. I just left a nigga dead
Or how bout your flat lines, work with those instead?
Your headgear, was never gear that could get u some head
How the crown fit u when you’ve never been a head, give advice ‘bout life when u better off dead, thought he could fuck wit me. Well he sick in the head I’m healthy with these pills
they sick him instead
I’ll shoot you in the head so fast you won’t even tell
You might forget the gun... but when it click it’s gonn ring a bell
I sell dope and own property I’m stringer bell
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