Michael Jordan Don’t Leave Comments

[Verse 1: Chris Crack]
These doo-rag decisions and I’m preaching church
I know I got the pastor listening
And that woman seen that murder with no fast description
No ass kissing you going downtown
No pretty brown round thing that’ll bail you out
And it’s the law, ride for all you fall guys
Sipping blunts, I got ‘em hogtied
Fuck law abiding citizens I’m drinking echinacea
I ain’t feeling it, I found beef
I’m under the weather like pound geese

[Chorus: Cutta]
Word on the streets that I’ll be fine
So lace your boots cause it’s crunch time
I did my thing on them punch lines
And fuck you niggas that want mine

[Verse 2: Cutta]
I ain’t finna take that, mama ain’t raise no punk
Run up with that face mask, make a nigga lay flat
I ain’t even jocking on these hoes, I want my ways back
What else I’m finna do, I think I’m gonna slay tracks
Bring the bass back, hold up, Cutta finna kill ‘em
Since I been doing since way back, bitch I only state facts
We are on a different route, you can’t be on the same track
And if she coming to my show, you know she gonna shake that
Bend it over that that, I hid it in my fake shoes
Fake shirt, fake hat, now bring the bass back
I tell these hoes I love him and it’s never any take backs