I spit dope shit like crack back/
My bars'll leave you slumped, Goin dumb with that trap rap/
I know you chumps cannot grasp that/
Pops caught me tossin pockets,/
told him "I just wanted my front back,"/
This that Glenn Hood B, and in them streets, we don't stunt cash/
These the slums, where a thug learn to dump, if he know he can't run fast/
I'll make a grown man climb his own damn ass into the trunk/
And when I pull up to get gas, Tell him use his cash to buy me snacks/
Then I sit back and fuckin laugh while I watch the bitch pump./
Act tough and pretend,/
Get smacked rough, when I beat this pussy up and then pass to a friend/
Yea the whole hood know I ride for mine,/
So despite my size and shade of white/
Take some advice and pray to christ I stay polite/
My behavior might just fall short of rational/
As a matter of fact,/
That, mixed with passion,/
lack of class,/
and a bad habit of snappin/
I'll show the whole damn bando,/
You aint need a whip to crack/ [triple entendre: 'Bull'whip cracking; whipping/cracking bones; Whippin crack]
Dopeless hope fiends, yea my crew do it right/
Movin in silence like niggas facin indictments/
Take note of pot odds before rollin the dice/
Tools come custom muzzled make sure shit stays quiet/
Boot to the side of your door knob, walk right in/
Fire started right up like a pilot was lighting/
You might see a crisis/
blow up the spot like we came reppin ISIS/
Mothers took to the streets, signs read "Need to stop violence."/
Gang bang til they have me hanged in public for loving my vices!/