Paul Bearer

Go, hell nah, you can't hang

baby said I smell like weed, told her that's my fragrance

We be playing with a scale on some everyday shit

Boy, you ridin' around in that little rusty like tow mator

Bitch mad I won't date her, I gotta get this paper

Mama told me, boy, calm your ass down, you ain't got no patience

Been telling these women I was gon' make it, now I'm making it

If it's my shit you not taking it

if it's my bitch then I'm breaking her

I can't buy no bitch no purse, make sure my Glock ride up in my hearse