F7

I’m missing my brotha, I know you be flying in heaven

I’ll give you your roses

A legend, February 7

I’m writing this letter to you

You know I salute

Don’t play with top Ooter

Play around he gon Oot

Every night use to trappy

Forever my slatty

Even though that shit hurt

But we still make them happy

Everything 4 F7

8x F7

I’m missing my brotha in heaven you flying

Get to the green and we still multiplying

I’ll play a beat and you started rhyming

In my hallway, when we just finished robbing

In my hallway we was shooting them dice

He had the knocka, I just had the knife

My evil twin, if it’s up, it’s on site

Still getting bands at the end of the night

Getting bucks like Milwaukee

Top Ooter if y’all be moving all wocky

Staticky, if you moving all oppy

Apollo speed beat you up like I’m Rocky

I’m from Harlem , I’m cocky

Keep it humble, let it boom like ockys

I’m top shelf, yea you more like a blocky

She get a check

Throw it back like huaraches

If you ain’t liming you ain’t shinning

That’s what you Jack

You supplying, they be buying

All the pack

I was there, and we wasn’t scared

Getting all the racks

Always thinking back

Shit is wack

I be really sad

Think about the trap

F7world rip Slat