Hair Part

"Time to die"

Hair down, smoking on a blunt

Smoking a fucking cigarette, to fuck up both of my lungs

Fuck you mean you hung yourself from the top bunk, bitch?

You ain't even high enough to touch a Glock, boy

Bitch, I put it to my skull

Bitch, believe I'ma drop, boy

Drop dead in the middle of the block, boy

Stuck between a hard place and a rock, boy

Rot in the box, breaking the locks

Time is money, I ain't even got a clock, boy

Watch them hoes flock, boy

Break my fucking heart, and now I'm bustin' out shots, boy

Put it to my head, and watch my head pop, boy

Don't quit your day job, who the fuck else gonna stock, boy?

You motherfucking box boy

Hair up, purple double cup, bodies in the trunk

Never front, this ain't what you want, .30 in the pump

$uicide, take my own life

Every night I die, every night I'm high

Another depressing-ass alibi

Reason for the drugs, reason for the subs

Give a fuck about the club

I'll walk up in that bitch, and shoot that motherfucker up

Fuck the DJ, fuck your clique, and fuck your songs, boy

I swear I hate you motherfuckers, leave me alone, boy

Fuck a scene, fuck a trend, fuck your clothes, too

Fuck you mean you with your team? And that's your hoe too?

Give a fuck about your dreams, or your whole crew

And if this is what it seems, I'm hollering, "Fuck you!"