Centurion (feat. Vince Staples)

I feel like the Tom Sawyer for real ****

Looking for a problem, revolver under the Hilfiger

No bluff needed, we will kill ****

So try me if you want, bro, I promise I'm with all of that

Late nights shooters, got 'em thinking Johnny Carson back

Trying to win this white man's game with my heart intact

All off a dollar and a dream that I really had

Kinda hard to sleep when your thoughts is in the streets

Norf Norf is the side where my family stay

Big Baby Jesus, I can't wait

Until the money coming in, spend it all on guns and rims

I ain't nothing but a ****, ain't no reason to pretend

Kept the sticky in the Stussy pouch

Ski mask, bloody 'Preme hoodie tossing doobies out the window of the hoopty

Night black as Paul Mooney at the movies, but the moon was out

Food was always optional, eating nothing but hard punches to that abdominal

Closes fist chronicles, sold sniff, Momma knew

Baggies laying around, peanut shells at a carnival

Stomping clowns welcome pussy **** to the romper room

Buckshot'll cover a whole torso like a parka do

In a park at 2, plotting, trying to garner loot

Split it with his big roll dog, call him Marmaduke

Searching for a shard of truth and found, uh

Couple bucks bought his cousins lunch

Another Dutch, stiff collar on the button-up

Hood rich, wild, I'm 'bout to run amok

Road to Hell paved with cement, cover trussle drugs, toughen up

Well alright

Okay

If that's how you truly feel about it then

Alright

Okay

That's how you truly feel about it then

Vinny Stape, they stupid, think the city safe

Until that little Bindie placed

Headshots, red dot, block as hot as Denny plates

Fed watch, fed watch, opinion's only pity-based

Deep in the Civic with the evilest **** this side of the Mississippi

All courtesy of Vincent from **** who plot against

Ear L double S, hear shells from the TEC

Here in full effect, eat a dick and cut a check, bitch

Few **** I'm on a first name basis with

Address me by the alias

That trunk weighted like he 'bout to catch a case again

Eighths louder than the voice of Satan that be plaguing him

Bro, I'm caking, whether Hell or bad weather, high water

I'm a sailor-type assailant for the paper

Living like I met the maker twice

Hit it 'til I'm faded right?

Mami, take a hike or treat it like you fucking shaking dice, bitch

Well alright

Okay

If that's how you truly feel about it then

Alright

Okay

That's how you truly feel about it then