Count

What

Stop talking to me crazy

For real

Word

Seven foot six we all amazons

This feeling like an oldie off the analog

Cut my legs off with the lawn

I'm always smoking dope

I don't fuck with the law

I'm dishing yet again flying saucer

They ain't heard from him in years now I'm gone

Now I'm on

Kept the pussy in the air

Rip the top off

The hand go in circles til it's lockjaw

I'm getting too obsessed shit I think I found god

I run around the earth like I wanted

I'm feeling like an addict how I still can't stop

Reel it in on my bagel double lox

I had to fuck around stick my head up in the box

Crazy Steve with the socks up

I crave it til the end you don't know

What's on my laptop

I'm half dead like the Bee Gees

I swing around the scythe this the freebie

Addicted to the peach in my freezie

You talk a lot of game but

It's G-G's

Even I could barely please me

Had to travel half the world

Pack of CD's

I'm tipping off my hat back and forth with the V-V's

I had to practice

I'm immaculate with the form

I bet I'm owed a billion clips

How I'm still not bored

I smoke it til it's dead

I'ma hit it with the torch

My shorty wobbling you would think we filming porno

I left the present and the whole world scorched

I was throwing up my torso

The bubbly struck a chord

Probably thinking about the end

I'm overworking at the morgue

I filled her up on my own that's abortion

I love how we immortal barely got up off the porch

I'm barely keeping score

Get the fuck up off me

I'm dead from New York

But I don't fuck with Wall Street

I wouldn't look up in the basement I be crawling

I got a ugly pokerface

I'm going all in