Hair

Hair down, smoking on a blunt
Smoking a fucking cigarette, to fuck up both of my lungs
Fuck you mean you hung yourself from the top bunk, bitch?
You ain’t even high enough to touch a Glock, boy
Bitch, I put it to my skull
Bitch, believe I’ma drop, boy
Drop dead in the middle of the block, boy
Stuck between a hard place and a rock, boy
Rot in the box, breaking the locks
Time is money, I ain’t even got a clock, boy
Watch them hoes flock, boy
Break my fucking heart, and now I’m bustin' out shots, boy
Put it to my head, and watch my head pop, boy
Don’t quit your day job, who the fuck else gonna stock, boy?
You motherfucking box boy
Hair up, purple double cup
Bodies in the trunk
Never front, this ain’t what you want
.30 in the pump
$uicide, take my own life
Every night I die, everynight I’m high
Another depressing-ass alibi
Reason for the drugs, reason for the subs
Give a fuck about the club
I’ll walk up in that bitch, and shoot that motherfucker up
Fuck the DJ, fuck your clique
And fuck your songs, boy
I swear I hate you motherfuckers, leave me alone, boy
Fuck a scene, fuck a trend, fuck your clothes, too
Fuck you mean you with your team? And that’s your hoe too?
Give a fuck about your dreams, or your whole crew
And if this is what it seems, I’m hollering, «fuck you!»