Ride through the night Too many victims in sight Slidin' round with a piece, on a bike Ain't no hidin' now, hit the ground Hear the sound from the pound \"tick-a-pow\" You fall down, sicker sounds Come up out from my mouth Kick it for the South But the North is my house Used to sleep up on a couch Smokin' all day, I'd find the weed in a drought Fuck a bitch at a party, then bounce Drinkin' mad liquor, but I'd rather smoke an ounce Feelin' all twisted like a fuckin' tongue in my mouth But I gotta go girl cuz I'm fuckin' burnin' out And I don't need a bitch, know what I'm talking 'bout
Chorus:
I'm crazy, baby I'm runnin' wild and you can't save me I'm crazy, baby We gettin' cash boy, don't be lazy
Verse Two:
I'm lifted, get twisted I'm runnin' round and I'm tryin' to find a biscuit Murder, you can't earn the Cash that we do dawg it don't concern ya As a child, I never wore diapers Feelin' comfortable, spittin' naked on a cypher Chill with apparitions, I'm the best ghost writer Hauntin' motherfuckers, can't see me in the night cuz I'm probably suckin' blood, sleepin' with the vipers And if there's snakes on a plane I'll get sent to rikers Cuz I hate snitches and I hate fake cats And I'm tryin to stay calm so I blaze that Purple up in that cut, and I lay back With a new bitch, dawg, tell her fuckin' play that New Armani shit this the bounce in a jays hat J's on my feet but I don't need to say that
Verse Three:
I'll burn you cats, then I'll furnish that New couch of mine with ya skin so don't turn back Your raps is wack, I keep the cash in stacks Keep a burner on my hip, my dawg, imagine that Pour gasoline on your bitch, fuck her strike a match And watch your whole meaningless world, turn to black Crazy young man puffin' big smoke stacks Raised in pollution, and I wound up shootin' Electrical volts through my veins, now I'm stupid Tryin' to find a girl, but I think I murdered cupid Bullets through the chest arrows never flew bitch This ain't the new sound, this the new itch Crack cocaine to your veins this the new blueprint Murder on the block, 1-8-7 Music The cops will never come, though I know it sounds stupid They never served or protected, they always abused it
