War of the Ring
Cut that bitch pay when I drop
Record in the kitchen so my music hot
If you really want smoke imma pull out the pot
I got too much riding so I'm never gone stop
I can't fuck with with these rappers that speaking facade
You will not survive shots from fusillade
Smoking Blunts in the graveyard my mental health rot
But they only pay attention when they hear the new drop
So I stay with these thoughts
I just really want the status of an underground God
In the barrow-down hotbox
Smoking moonrock
But I stay punching clocks
Tryna put myself on
I don't bust with the Glock
I don't gotta throw shots
Rappers won't prove me wrong
They still gone hit me up I don't talk
I'm antisocial I don't sip wok
Gonе be pressed whеn I climb to the top
And I don't plan to fall