Lyrics

[Verse 1] [?] Gotti crossed with Rob Zombie Cops knock, its lock's stocked with a sawed off shotty You could not stop me, fuck a battle rap Fact is I've got bodies like autopsies I don't want it if the crop's stocky Pushing food like a shop trolley A thousand grams powder, man, my box rocky Ain't a view unless it makes you feel like you could box Rocky Top notch prop, talk to anyone who bought off me They'll tell you, hell yeah it smell just like chop choppy I've got customers who pop molly [?] like the sweets, believe these ain't soft toffees Opioids that are raw poppies Lots of boiling pot like hot coffees Drive by on you posh snobby knob jockey squad posse I got wheels and I stick like we're playing games at Quads Hockey [Verse 2] I've got a few [nose?] cars I've shifted more weight in my circle than a sumo does Crack packed in cooked stove pots One thousand gram box posted at your post box How much my new clothes cost? I'm the man in designer brands, I'm a Hugo Boss Fuck them, I'll sue those cops Revenge is sweet as infected needle glucose shots One punch, you'll need two nose jobs 'til your lips swell looking like you just used Botox Drug plug like two [?] [?] wax foreign cash stacking up [Euro guap?] You know what? Last huge load drop came off a ship just as big as Jacques Cousteau's yacht Smooth smoke good roll drop Pitch in, I flip it like that dude Ghost Dog