Drowned God

Verse I: Tommy Wit Da Tone

Tommy creepin out the cut I know you could not see
I’m makin stangs the gun go bang it’s a sweet robbery
I’ll leave yo body on display and make a mockery
I’m tip toein thru your shit I’ll take your property
I’m satan’s bastard nothing more than his own vessel
He speaks through me he says it’s time to meet the devil
I take you out and then I’ll drag you to my level
Buried underneath a coffin and the shovel
Call up special k he pull up with the tec
Run yo mouth we run yo pockets and we break your neck
Head to thе store we get our papеr your name on the check
I ain’t stuntin I ain’t braggin triple 6 I flex

Verse II: Tommy Wit Da Tone

Tommy got the muthafuckin gat to yo back, think fast
Better make no moves or imma have to up and act
This is what you get when you fuckin with mack
Put one in yo done and have your family dressed in all black
357, 9/11
Procession of possession make yo ass believe in heaven
Indiscretion of aggression
Manic depressive incessant muthafucka got a weapon
Eyes red with a mask lookin real mean
Got yo ass shooketh as you shake and you scream
Doing all this dirt just to get your green
Fueled by the 'caine feelin like charlie sheen
But you busta bitches steady know how it go
Room fulla drugs and a bag full dope
Live in shadows hide within my cloak
Live for the pain can’t wait til I croak, lil bitch