Demi God

Ooh, it's Wavy808 Yeah, yeah 'Ight, do what we gon' do (what it is?) I know this, like, I feel- Sixth time tryna kill this nigga Foolio, but look (what's up?) He got a green Dodge Durango and a black SRT (yeah?) Who got the drop on him, man? (Let's do it) Let's go That's him backin' out right there (let's go, man, let's go) Shoot, nigga, shoot Damn, you killed him? (Check the news) I know that nigga dead (what the fuck? That nigga still livin', man, damn) I saw death like five, six times, like I'm a Super Saiyan I can't die, so my opps thinkin' that I'm Superman Told lil' bro, "Go flip they block," that's just the mood I'm in Still in my city, on my head, like a hunnid bands So I'ma buy a hunnid choppas and some stolen cars October 7th, them boys tried to kill a superstar I'm still standin', poppin' Percocets and Xanny bars Survived death so many times like I'm a demigod We on the road, just left Miami, brudda crackin' cars My bitch just made another 100K off doin' fraud At Green Acres, finna buy my Glock some body parts Right now, I wanna kill my cousin, I don't got no heart Bro, don't come through 6 Block fishin', you ain't got no rod At Green Acres, finna buy my Glock some body parts He gave my drop, how I let a snake get in my yard? Survived death so many times, I'm a demigod 'Posed to be chillin', way in Cali', tryna ship them chickens I want all them niggas dead, that's why I'm in my feelings My foot healin', with these crutches, I still stand on business I need 'em dead before my flight land back in the city High speed chases, brand-new Glock, refuse to throw my glizzy Smoke got heavy, I ain't runnin', I ain't leave my city Wit' this Glock, .357, bitch, I feel like Bibby Way in Pittsburgh, 14 on me like I'm George Pickens In New York City talkin' business, just like Russell Simmons Rest in the trenches, holidays, shit was gettin' vicious Public housin', fuck Christmas, we ain't have no chimney This shit just hit me, broke my heart, Bangman keep on stealin' Promote the violence, but stay in school to all the children Rule number one, you ain't built to love or trust these bitches Rule number two, you need money to war wit' the city Rule number three, police grab you, ain't no fuckin' snitchin' Rule number four, pray to God for this life we livin' 'Cause any day, you could die or go to penitentiary Damn Swear to God Shit real life