Song parody of
GHOST/LLMG
by TG $ PP
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Ain't no point in waiting, cuttin right to the chase
More money, more problems, more problems, more k's
Ain't no problems, shell casings for days
Make you a ghost, nigga, now you feelin' my rage
I hit you up, nigga, now you feelin' my pain
I send you up, nigga, then laugh with the gang
It's me or you, nigga, that's just how I was raised
We used to shoot at trees, what's too young for the range
I have to sell the weed, what's too young for the cane
Had to cock the heat then aim for his brain
Fat tank, what you on? What the fuck you tweakin'
Man, I don't give a fuck, done fightin' these demons
They gon' say it ain't me, I been player' for seasons
I'm Trayvon with the hoodie, but you run up, I'm squeezin
Back then was gold-hearted, but they gave me a reason
Dark road, hard call, left his heart in the freezer
See a cell, die now , or make a deal with the reaper
He gon' tell you snatch a soul, then tell you to keep it
Everybody ain't your friend, you better keep it a secret
You can't even tell your girl she in love with a demon
Just tell her she protected and she better believe it
If they run up on your girl, then she better start squeezin
But, bro, that ain't your girl, you in love with a cheater
You can try to give yo all, but she gon' tell you to keep it
Keep your problems to yoself, ain't no point in the weepin
So I'm out here in these streets, smokin' loud with my demons
Everybody say I'm hot, but my heart be anemic
And I got this shit on lock, y'all just ball for a season
Not enough, Chris Paul's To Many Kobe's
thats demons
If you ever kill your man's , you should die, cause it's treason
Ain't no point in waiting, cuttin right to the chase
More money, more problems, more problems, more k's
Ain't no problems, shell casings for days
Make you a ghost, nigga, now you feelin' my rage
I hit you up, nigga, now you feelin' my pain
I send you up, nigga, then laugh with the gang
It's me or you, nigga, that's just how I was raised
We used to shoot at trees, what's too young for the range
I have to sell the weed, what's too young for the cane
Had to cock the heat then aim for his brain
Fat tank, what you on? What the fuck you tweakin'
Man, I don't give a fuck, done fightin' these demons
They gon' say it ain't me, I been player' for seasons
I'm Trayvon with the hoodie, but you run up, I'm squeezin
Back then was gold-hearted, but they gave me a reason
Dark road, hard call, left his heart in the freezer
See a cell, die now , or make a deal with the reaper
He gon' tell you snatch a soul, then tell you to keep it
Everybody ain't your friend, you better keep it a secret
You can't even tell your girl she in love with a demon
Just tell her she protected and she better believe it
If they run up on your girl, then she better start squeezin
But, bro, that ain't your girl, you in love with a cheater
You can try to give yo all, but she gon' tell you to keep it
Keep your problems to yoself, ain't no point in the weepin
So I'm out here in these streets, smokin' loud with my demons
Everybody say I'm hot, but my heart be anemic
And I got this shit on lock, y'all just ball for a season
Not enough, Chris Paul's To Many Kobe's
thats demons
If you ever kill your man's , you should die, cause it's treason
