Two years ago, a friend of mine

told me to write me a tight ass rhyme

and so I, I wrote this rhyme that I am about to say

the rhyme is tight and it went this way

And I'm on my briefcase wit some crumbled weed

shystie niggas keep staring at me

I had my 45 and my 44

i put one on my briefcase so them niggas'll know

lives get took

that's it just like a book

do you want a meathook

smoke a fat blunt on my couch wit my feet up while you get took

fo yo skrill

hundred dolla bill

take yo pill muthafucka

while you bullshitin dis shit is real

i ain't no twelve inch

can't mix me up in this shit

i got full clips

and alone i do my shit

so trust me you information faulty

and i wouldn't eat you cause your meat's too salty

i'd rather, step through a fire ring wit some gasoline draws than fuck

wit you

cause you the type of nigga that'll tell'em everything you saw, wit my

big bad forty auto mag

twenty sac nigga get yo money back if you don't think you of that

sliznack

motivated, totally undominated

i got that sickness and the remedy, my momma made it

easy fo me i didn't have to work

fourteen years old in the backseat drinkin o.e. like kirk

now just the other day a friend of mine

told me to write me a tight ass rhyme

and so i, i wrote this ryhme that i'm about to say

the rhyme is tight and it went this way

i know it's been a long time, i shouldn't left you

without a tight rhyme to step to

think of all them weak ass albums you slept through

well i'm yo medicine, sorry i kept you

went to my brother's house, without a doubt

twisted one up with the nigga, smoked'em out