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Picture me sitting in a jail cell rotting
Or barricaded in a motel wit twelve shotguns
So when the cops come knocking each hand's got one
Cocked, ready to dump slugs heavy as shot puts
One man army, guns can't harm me
Young and army, worse than my Uncle Ronnie
Ever since I got my first gun pulled on me
I can't stop carrying out my dirty laundry
Middle fingers flipped and censorship
Your friends just flipped over the swift penmanship
Ever since I spit some # on Infinite
I been giving it a hundred and ten percent
Cause when I'm bent most of my energy's spent on enemies
Eighty percent of what I invent is innocent
Twenty percent is from being hungry as sin
Ten's because I love being under your skin
Yeah # can happen, so stick to rapping
Quit the yapping or I'ma lift the mack and
That can lead to another mishap happening
Skip the crap get the can of whoopass cracking