[Intro]
Talk to em

[Verse]
Now even a big gun got a little black hole
The desks of these record exec's prolly hold your black soul
If you sold it, not me, I'm in the driver's seat
Soul controlling, never talking cheap; my teeth golden
They use a ki' to shovel the blow in, they knows it
Pay me all of the money they owe me for those
As far as shit that I compose, it's a picture of my life
Running roads, certain clothes that making thousands off a flip phone
Keep blickers in my trousers, that or more to chip bones
Got this shit sеwn like Dapper Dan from Queens to Pakistan
So the cash I got in my stash comе from the rapping fans
The other cheese is undisclosed, no, under-closed
All these hoes love me 'cause I've. been doing [?] hoes
Only [?]