PTSD pt. 2
produced by fooly

lyrics:

where the fuck did you get the idea that i’m ever gon switch up onna gang
you been a lame i ain’t fuckin playin
i’ll blow a hole up in yo fuckin brain

reconstructing my life from nothing don’t let me find out yo bitch ass bluffin
whippin up dope n i stir it up good up in thanksgiving time you could call the shit stuffing

i give him ptsd from the thought of me 
honestly i just be fucking with modesty
running yo pockets i tell em to get on knees
i just want war like im champion of the street
i told em pull up get broken like celery
i told my lil bro to lay off the selling green
fuckin with me that shit where the death sentence be
all black coupe when i pull up it’s menacing

ion really give a fuck bout who you cool with who yo gang is
if you the wrong one then im dangerous
i’ll fuck around and make it painless
i’ll pull up in an all black fit imma fuck around and stomp his face red
if he fuckin with me then he fuckin with street imma pull up wit crew and we leave em dead

i gotta be in the street cuz i jus wanna eat
and i don’t wanna feel the hunger
been onna grind since like 2019
and im lightning speed ion hear the thunder
moving the dope ain’t got nowhere to go i was sweating them bullets when they pulled us over
i been with the shits n i been catching licks
when the feds rolled thru boy the streets was colder

you ain’t really capable of knowing what i been through 
been woken up with a pistol 
god damn it shoulda been this dude
i sit up in the night tormented by the fuckin victims
and i look next you’re the fifth one
god damn i shoulda been different

where the fuck did you get the idea that i’m ever gon switch up onna gang
you been a lame i ain’t fuckin playin
i’ll blow a hole up in yo fuckin brain

reconstructing my life from nothing don’t let me find out yo bitch ass bluffin
whippin up dope n i stir it up good up in thanksgiving time you could call the shit stuffing

where the fuck did you get the idea that i’m ever gon switch up onna gang
you been a lame i ain’t fuckin playin
i’ll blow a hole up in yo fuckin brain

reconstructing my life from nothing don’t let me find out yo bitch ass bluffin
whippin up dope n i stir it up good up in thanksgiving time you could call the shit stuffing

i give him ptsd from the thought of me 
honestly i just be fucking with modesty
running yo pockets i tell em to get on knees
i just want war like im champion of the street
i told em pull up get broken like celery
i told my lil bro to lay off the selling green
fuckin with me that shit where the death sentence be
all black coupe when i pull up it’s menacing

OPUS (prod.fooly)

leviticus