My fans I got my vans
Of the wall Off the wall
Of the wall Off the wall
Got of the wall like
My fans I got my plan
Escobar Escobar
Escobar Escobar
Look
I mean is not that general
Talking bout mineral
The alcohol and food stance just gone be the death of you
Call another Jesus tryna give another birth to you
Emotional and Physical
Is motherf*cking radical
Coffin on my shoulder holding black human body
Of this nigger who was tryna go and join illuminati
They don't learn their lesson they don't motherf*cking learn
Till their head is cut out and finger tips burned
Miscommunication leading to the violation
Rage between two parties reaping off the nation
You can read between the line is the pseudo toleration
I mean look at how the hating when you tryna get the cake
And you tryna get cocaine is in there
O strains in there
We just gone take em out if they're acting God figures
Or let em eat bananas if they think they're gorillas
Cause I just walk around stepping on my J's stepping on my J's
I got my vans!
Got off the wall
You know there comes times when I had to sit down with myself and think of all these high school moments
Damn! myself I didn't have like all these fancy shoes and fancy clothes and all that you know
Now I'm just sitting here alone starring at a strange clock
And lifelessly is running backwards
Innocent ants are not born that innocence
Flooding their cold room with their hearts burning
The floor is sluiced with the juice made of crimson blood and bitter tears
Fear popping rapidly in their lifeless hearts
And gory death pinching their skin like thorns
I understand that
You know some other bitches love us and we still have some more others bitches hating
And I ain't f*cking with these old whores no!
Bad with this one
Titty fall bitch
First I got gold digger gold digger in there
Now buckle up you f*cking with wrong niggers
You f*cking with wrong niggers
Wrong niggers
You f*cking the wrong niggers
First I got gold digger gold digger
First I got digger gold digger
Then I got my niggers my niggers
We up on the five figures
With five digits
We up on the
Gold digger you f*cking with wrong niggers
And I know you wanna f*ck em' all niggers
Your daddy got the sugar but he old nigger
And you know the f*cking winter cold nigger
So like Yah! Yah! Yah!
Part of a plan
Making demands
Rocking your man bitch i ain't your man
How was your pocket in sinner low
How was it in Finn ego
Gimme the road like gimme the dose nigger
How was it in Finn ego
Money in the pocket we rocking that Gucci