Sewed Up

(Zaytoven)

What's up, Zay?

Uh, that's how **** live and shit

I just be tellin' what **** be goin' through

I got a real low number on some pure weight

The feds out early so we moving late

Thirty bands on the lawyer, I went through a case

And them Glocks, they paranoia, they go through your face

These **** wearing aluminum foil, all their jewelry fake

And I wore two condoms, bitch, you can't be late

When that .223 hit, gotta get amputated

These rappers faking and man these **** living in they imaginations

If you a rat, must get exterminated

I'm stocked up like the Terminator

Bitch say she never fucked, fuck her, you'll be burning later

Dirty bitches, I don't want 'em, I'm only worried 'bout the paper

Bitch, see you later, send tips like you a waiter

Every bullter count, not one get wasted

We throwing it up, we got all the gas and the guns

All this weight on my back, man, it feel like a ton

I'm twenty years old with two sons

If you the game we gon' hunt

We done bought us Saint Laurent

Bullets eat him like he lunch

Shooters posted in the back and the front

Cook a lot of yola, if I do not know you

Murder game, sick, Ebola

I'm working like a motor, ah

Sewed up, I got sewed up

I make the trap blow up

I got the streets sewed up

I make the trap blow up

Hurry blow your arms up

I just picked the bomb up

Work so good, you need to get you one

Get you one then flip you one

Money  come, decisions come

Should I spare 'em, should I kill 'em

And I'ma kill 'em, that **** done

Put that bread on this head, that **** done

I could finesse the panties off a nun

I might finesse a **** just for nothing

Sold out from the suburbs to the slums

Dick in her throat, watch the bitch hum

Long road, where I'm from

Before I leave the house, bitch, I load the drum

If you ain't tryna get no money, you a bum

We throwing it up, we got all the gas and the guns

All this weight on my back, man, it feel like a ton

I'm twenty years old with two sons

If you the game we gon' hunt

We done bought us Saint Laurent

Bullets eat him like he lunch

Shooters posted in the back and the front

Cook a lot of yola, if I do not know you

Murder game, sick, Ebola

I'm working like a motor, ah

Sewed up, I got sewed up

I make the trap blow up

I got the streets sewed up (Bitch)