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Verse 4
I'm spittin rhythems with visions
Of bad decisions, divisions Of my militia, the mission Hit with precision, and missin In this condition, is riskin And now ya slippin, and driftin While i be shiften, positions It's true I glisten, conditioned To spit these writtens, so listen You keep the talent deducted I've come to grab the corrupted you see the mac and you love it You know im nothin to fuck wit I wont be tuckin a musket No it's nothin like luck its More like a fuckin adjustment Yall spits is nothin but ruckus Thats why I trust that you fuckas Will flee and run with the bustas. |
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pretty nice keep droppin stay up good luck wit wiley d lol
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