Sheet Music

930, 33Rd

Gangrene, uh

They say the boy is old school

WWF

I will smack a fucking chair to that little ass chest

You outta breath that means you needing some rest

Have a seat, literal

I'm yelling to the crowd and they screaming to get rid of you

And I don't need the cage or the rings

I'm from the gang that goes bang to your dreams

So keep dreaming like a gauge in your sleep

So I can see what you thought on your sheets

I call it sheet music

Like they counting our sheep moving

The sleep movement, they seep into it

I see what you're doing, you're sick, I see through it

Like a live leak to it filming

From a local's phone, I choke your focus gone

Like hocus pocus, a locust swarms

The only way you hearing a buzz

Over the music that they play in the

Clubs (Ah, this shit is all fucked)

Sending the thugs baby, show me some love

I see the haters, they ain't fucking

With us (They ain't fucking with us)

Never that and I'm better at it you little fuck

Whoever ratted got bullet tatted to full advantage (Know what I mean?)

I'm laughing at it, try to find a little good in us

Good luck motherfucker, night night motherfucker

Smoke blunts, you know the black is potent

Don't front, you know I got ya open

At lunch with the snakes and pigeons

Front, get punched in your face for living

Listen, I beam your wig, you seeing this riddle

My dreams is big, my crib is little

Living in the 'ville is risky

Niggas green with envy but I'm Bill Bixby

Mr. McGee don't get me angry

You wouldn't like it when I'm angry

Listen, P, Lou Lou Ferrigno

Big bullets'll shoot through you and your kinfolks

Ruck from Heltah

Nine clap, spine tap and fuck your felt up

Snuff to the wack boy

Biggest nigga in my group buff from the Fat Boys, P

Never that and I'm better at it you little fuck

Whoever ratted got bullet tatted to full advantage

I'm laughing at it, try to find a little good in us

Good luck motherfucker, night night motherfucker

I'm crumbling the dope, two G's in a bucket

Big bundle for the rope, twenty G's for the nugget

Doing slaloms in the slope, my machinery's rugged

You pussy with a shit stain bikini is muddy

Break levy when I reign 'til the vicinity flooded

So I can test my human skin canoe

This is only a small portion, I'm giving you a snippet view

Trail of visuals sicker than salmonella chicken flu

My creative juice come from a different fruit

But when you sip it's strong like Guinness brew

Spill blood on your tennis shoe

Before I bless chalice I use a paper clip to scrape the residue

Stick man get the money, take the revenue

Theme music for you to push the Lamborghini pedal to

Explode a grenade and pieces of metal flew

Collateral damage, aim for the torso what the leg'll do

Never that and I'm better at it you little fuck

Whoever ratted got bullet tatted to full advantage

I'm laughing at it, try to find a little good in us

Good luck motherfucker, night night motherfucker

Motherfucker, I'm like, oh jeez, why don't you give

Him appetizer after you give him the main course?

Cut his fucking head off and then he says, "Kinda lit"

What the fuck kind of shit is that? That's crazy shit, man

And Al Pacino's like, "The fuck? You go ahead

And cut off his leg, I don't give a shit"

Uh, I'm confused, because, uh

You figure it out, I'm getting out of here, you know

And I'm gonna wear my sunglasses at night, you know why?

Because women have short skirts and then

They feel violated when I look at them

Why? 'Cause I have sunglasses on and I'm weird

All those people who called me a sleepwalker, I woke up

Now I'm going back to sleep, as I am, a fuck up, goodbye