For The Art Lyrics

Buncha faces in my pocket

Swear to god im stacking baby

Don't be acting shady

Around the gang you get decapitated

Nothings changing on the block

Another day another payment

And my baby got the cake around

Like it's my damn belated birthday

Pop a percy it got me salivating

Chopper cause an earthquake

Whole block evacuated

I was trapping every day

I think my scale need calibrated

And i still ain't never capping

Even tho i graduated

(Buncha faces)

Every situation drug related

Not to stunt but i could spent a couple

Just on something basic

Buncha faces,

Every situation ive created

That i could lost my life

But i be thanking god it made it

Im tryna double it up

Im talking legal money

But we came ducking the fuzz

When the police is comming

Boy yo gang ain't none but a front

So why they speaking funny

Boy you jus a couple of punks

Im bouta teach ya something

Remember we was jugging the plug

Like its the regular

Filling up the blunt wit the runts

And eating edibles

My gang stay 101 my bitch incredible

She always tryna touch on my gun

But im never letting her

You could get yo wig split

Trying all that slick shit

I could spray a hater

Like im chilling in a dish pit

Im jus tryna get my money up

And get my dick lick

Ain't none of yo dogs ever hit shit

I could knock em off of my hit list

Almost lost it all for a thick bitch

Get yo wig split trying all that slick shit

Baby brain dumb like the special olympics

Buncha faces,

Every situation drug related

Not to stunt but i could spent a couple

Just on something basic

Buncha faces,

Every situation ive created

That i could lost my life

But i be thanking god it made it