Apocalypse

[Verse]
I don't talk beef cause I walk it
Bag full of chips, no Walker's
I started off with crumbs now I'm stacking up my bread
I will shoot him right if he's moving left
Ride to the death, death before dishonour
The big .45 stays on us, you unna?
I'm not guilty, niggas wan' kill me
My nigga do you feel me?
I'm stressed cause my friend's dead
Friends, ain't got many left
Adolescence stage, remember the days when I was penniless
Cold sweats, nights up in jail had a nigga stressed
I don't give a fuck about the po-po
Still shoot the .44 right through his logo
Ralph Lauren polo
Burner on my waistband, my pancreas
Shoot him thirty times all in man's wig
I drop food on my line and watch my grams flip
I'll wig him, I'll give him the damn clip
.44 and it's two-tone
The strap's overweight like a sumo
I have bullets sliding out like a newborn
Keep the gun in my pocket like two phones
Real cocky like Curtis Warren
Real fucking drug baron
Feds want me on the Y like my noti
Fuck half, I need that whole key
Me and Big S kept it real from day one
While these fuckboys only came round yesterday
Coke in the pot, make it bubble up
I'ma burn him with that iron till he's had enough
I just need cheese in my fucking sandwich
Talking money yeah that's my fucking language
I move low, me and DLO
I move green, white, B and snow
I might rob the link for like six boxes
Twenty-five each piece, get rich off it
In beef my niggas squeeze, won't speak often
I'll leave them stone cold like Steve Austin
Money on my mind, got me thinking different
Caught my first body with a fucking Smith & Wesson
Fifteen when I first touched prison
Sixteen when I changed my religion
Armani jeans and the top is Stoney
Dior for my daughter in her baby rolly
I don't trust niggas, move too phoney
If I wasn't on top you'd probably disown me
Drive-by in the night G
You'll see the heatwave like Wiley
Niggas get shot and be like "Why me?"
I'll come and rob a nigga for his watch so kindly
"Born alone, die alone" embedded in my brain
Capone is the name, Capone in the Range
I'ma stop the car if she's not giving brain
VS1 diamonds round the Cartier frame
Moving like Pesci, MAC and a speshy
Strangle the strap; kill a nigga gently
Real G's recognise, fake ones resent me
I remember school, got kicked out from early
Then I went centre, finished 12:30
I tried to do the college thing, it was shit, it didn't work
So I hit the block hard, trapping sling and work
The devil wants my soul, these roads so cold
Feds want me locked or dead in a hole
Gun in my pocket, ain't no fed checking me
My nigga got locked, they tried to do a double jeopardy
I've got this hot spice and she said that she's Lebanese
Older Snap bought me a gun for my seventeenth birthday
Bang bang early, I show no mercy
Bullets got him bad like herpes