Brucifix

Brr Cocaine, caviar, and grouper fishes (sniff) You see a bunch of rappers, I see a group of bitches (haha) No broke niggas around me That shit might rub off, I'm superstitious (get outta here) Direct deposit just came in, that shit was too ridiculous My music motivate dudes in the trenches, usin' switches (uh-huh) Ain't even gotta drop a bag Them boys gon' do your dishes (boom, boom, boom) Bro got all that time, he appealed and they reduced the sentence And he still gotta do two digits (that's fucked up), shit Word to my nigga Malice, everythin' I spew malicious That's just somethin' to think about When y'all do y'all listens (talk that shit) Run at me, you runnin' towards a wall Boy I ain't movin' inches (uh-huh) DJ modified the yacht, he like "Buzz, check my new invention" (what up, Buzz?) Hahaha, yeah, niggas can't control they emotions Show they true intentions That bitch was broke, that made me lose my interest I'm so in the lead, I could leave for three years And still ain't losin' distance (ha) Look, it was resi' in them pots and them pans Now it's tropical sand (whip up) I told her, "Don't even pack, we gon' shop when we land" (we shoppin') Private villa, seafood tower, lobster and clam (get money, bitch) So paranoid, some nights I sleep with this Glock in my hand (uh-huh) Havin' visions of niggas that I done shot with this can (I swear) It's niggas that I love, I know Tryna plot on my land (who plottin', huh?) Whack 'em, bury 'em in my yard, dig his plot on my land (woo) I'm just that nigga, boy, look at my run Look all of the classics that I dropped in the span of six years It would seem I did the impossible, damn Came a long way from when a nigga was shot in my van Tourin' overseas, I just had a moshpit in France Puttin' on for my niggas that's locked in the jam (ah) I don't rock with industry niggas, they is not my mans (uh-huh) Uh-uh (brr) Ayo (Flygod) I don't trust no-fuckin'-body but this heckler (boom, boom, boom) Just spent thirty thousand in the Webster (ah) You know the God, nothin' more, nothin' lesser (uh-uh) Jamaican, raw, hit him in his head and said "Bless up" (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Ayo, Jamaican raw, hit him in his head and said "Bless up" (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Ayo, tell 'em to bring the match, to wear Bottega green satchels (grr) Bet I'll be at you, Tom Ford tracksuit Prince Markie D on the stove, wearin' raccoons You just got it, I wore this shit Fashion Week last June (ah) Balenciaga, Adida, baklava (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot) The chopper shot, the suede Maserati, with the Prada top (skrrt) American cups, patent leathers on blasè blah (hmm) Denim Tears Saint Michael top off, Mardi Gras (brr, brr, brr, brrrr) I talked to Sly and Kutter today (ah) Still be in the hood, got a house on the lake Got album of the year, still get work from the Bay (ah) Oldest seven told me "If you gon' play, you gotta play" My nigga just seen a boy, stomach hurtin', he gotta stay (hmm) Gave Y.N. a new Griselda chain and a Drac' (brr)