Lyrics:
fire you gon' feel the burn
I do that shit to the 3rd degree
Everybody want a verse from me
Cuz I leave tracks like a murder scene
Come on the track
a nigga
Even think about
Touching me
I might catch
A 3rd degree
On the scene
Murder charges
Only thing
I ain't beat
If he think
He got heart
Then I'm
I'm dropping be heat give em 3rd degree
How the fuck these rich niggas ain't heard of me
Now and days count a couple a duffles of quala
Remember nights
the conversation high
Tell the girl a comical lie just keep the conversation high
I seen you from afar
Nice frame and your braids long
Gucci bag matching your
fascinate
When I let my 3rd eye exaggerate
Freaky visions, I tell you what I see
Cold concrete scattered with dry leaves
You naked lying on the pavement
Two hours later back in the hood slangin' dope
'Cause its an everyday thang where I hang at
3rd Ward Calliope projects I thought I name dat
Where
very small
Reading commercials on TV
Is just as good as a bad Page 3 review
We all know it's so hard for you
Revue
We all know it's so hard
kilowatts
Sit back watch that I murk the scene
Shits burnt get close cop a 3rd degree
I've been fucked off, left and cut to bleed
Since when did I say
Never got why I'd be celebrated been giving the 3rd degree
This year all of them heard my speech
Happy birthday to me
Bled out on stages
Soaking it in
soul
So feed me
I'm easily treated with heat 3rd degree
But in the deep part of my cranium
I need to cast it away
Bubble hash do ya thang
And the end
the longest time
Maybe this won't last very long
But you feel so right
And I could be wrong
Maybe I've been hoping too hard
But I've gone this far
it was the 3rd of june another sleepy dusty delta day
i was out choppin' cotton and my brother was bailin' hay.
at dinner time we stopped off
always cause explosions
The banks of G, all CREAM downs a vet
Money feed good, opposites off the set
It ain't hard to see, my seeds need God-degree
I
gonna see what them racket boys can do
Now there's trouble busin' in from outta state
And the DA can't get no relief
Gonna be a rumble out
this shit for 3rd degree Mayne
Bitch I'm a gangsta for life, life, life
Me and my Niggas gon ride, ride, ride
Bitch Nigga don't wanna die, die, die
Get
this?
You know a woman like you should be at home
That's where you belong
Taking care for somebody nice
Who don't know how to do you wrong
Just how much
to my already mad rush
Just 'cause it's 'tis the season
The perfect gift for me would be
Completions and connections left from
Last year, ski shop,
to the 3rd degree robbery say it war time I'm trynna bust me a score huggin clock stuck in box I run it up get to a bag might cop a jag f-type all I see is
on goals lionel messi
Guap a burn you with a chop black belt 3rd degree
Savv and dollaz out the window letting it fly with ease
Since day one I kept one up
And what do you tell those families that now have to put they sons down?
George Floyd was murdered yet the cop only caught 3rd degree?
That was no accident,
choice
Grey and in Blue
Only the team, had no 3rd party boost
Took no advance I don't need to recoup
Minor setback so they think it's a fluke
Living dead
to the 3rd degree
Lisarola isondo le ANC
Lisarola isondo le ANC
The kids still crying, the kids still dying
Every year dawg they're occupying
Foreigners yep
to fall
And this ain't the easy way down
And it's a hard thing to love anyone, anyhow
So if it's gotta be you
Treat her nice
Hold her hand
Have you ever been awaken by the crowing of a rooster
While the night do still heavy on the ground
And the voice of Uncle Ben seems to break
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