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Dead Flowers

de Boldy James

(What up, Antt?)
(Beat Gang)
Where we at?

Burning high-grade, finna drop a five in the limeade
Taj paid, walkin' out with pints at the Rite-Aid
Baby so cold, she can't wait to let me slay her
Let me fuck for free, but the head so good I wanna pay her
Know I'm havin' [?] but leave a message at the dial tone
Richest street nigga that she ever laid her brows on
Trillest nigga out the drug zone, put on for the ghetto
Fifteen-hundred-dollar dunks on, stompin' foreign pedals
Burberry on my collar with the light print
Feds know a nigga got a line on them ice chips
Hundred thou' on all slips niggas know we touchin'
Switches on all of the sticks we be cobra-clutchin'
Pipe downs for the snakes, I had to mow the yard
Any nigga take a hit on Blocks, he gotta overcharge
I owe you, it's only us, I'm really from the Warren
Them niggas know with us, this shit come with a thunderstorm

Make it rain on your head, we givin' lead showers
Left him in the lane field under dead flowers
To all my niggas comin' home on the furlough
It's 227 till the motherfuckin' world blow
Same niggas, only worse, mega-popular
Worldwide mob figures, we the mafia
The same niggas, only worse, mega-popular
227 mafia, what else? Let's get it

They pillow-talk more than these hoes, they some gossipers
Long live my OG Rock off of Rossiter
Gang know I kept it truer than a full snickin'
Still passin' testers out at the soup kitchen
I got niggas out in [?], killers in the zigs
With fully outs, pop up on a nigga like a quiz
Welcome home [Lo Diddy?], long live Eric
Pinky ring, seen the cut stones ten carats
Everybody thugs till the judge set bail
And they wakin' up handcuffed to a bed rail
Still foldin' lotto packs and them twelve-twelves
Off-White same color as an egg shell
Free [?] Tarantino from that fed cell
Had a long run, turnt your city to a trail mix
Slow motion, wearin' bass upon that handheld
Got some blow stronger than them cases that the feds build

Make it rain on your head, we givin' lead showers
Left him in the lane field under dead flowers
To all my niggas comin' home on the furlough
It's 227 till the motherfuckin' world blow
Same niggas, only worse, mega-popular
Worldwide mob figures, we the mafia
The same niggas, only worse, mega-popular
227 mafia, what else? Let's get it

Left him in the lane field under dead flowers
Let's get it
(Beat Gang)

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